A Second Chance
by Elfpen
Summary: "Everyone had someone. Everyone but him. Whether he would admit it or not, there hadn't ever been a time when Merlin remembered missing her quite this much." FULL SUMMARY INSIDE. Sequel to 'Trust'. Rating may change. Merlin/Freya
1. Lonely in a Crowded Room

**Summary: "Everyone had someone, everyone but him. Amid his family in Camelot, Merlin suffers from loneliness. When a noble family arrives at Camelot, a familiar face gives Merlin hope, but ulterior motives and a plot against Camelot and Merlin himself leaves the warlock fighting for everything he holds dear – even that which he thought he'd lost.**" 

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><p>It was probably what would come to be known Camelot's most colorful time of year. In every place suited for it, there were baskets of wildflowers hanging from poles and sitting on windowsills, decorating the tables and, with some coaxing from the Court Sorcerer, the walls as well. To anyone who didn't know better, the décor might've been a rather expansive homage to the delightful spring they'd been having that year, but other goings-on of the castle hinted at something more out-of-the-ordinary. Kitchen staff scrambled like frightened deer along the servants' hallways, and the master of the hall directed his own staff around with a booming voice as they prepared to host what must have been a large feast. Obviously, a very special day approached for Camelot and her people, but it was no ordinary holiday, and none except those who actually lived in Camelot would be able to tell you what the festivities were all about.<p>

Tomorrow was the King and Queen's anniversary. It was, in fact, their first anniversary of marriage. Although Queen Guinevere had insisted that it mustn't be made into a large affair, King Arthur convinced her to let him throw her a huge party, just this once, to celebrate their first year as husband and wife. The King loved nothing more than seeing his wife smile, and she was always sure to smile at events such as the one he'd prepared in her honor. It was for this reason, for the sake of her beautiful, infectious smile, that Arthur had asked Merlin specifically for all of the flowers. They weren't hard to come by, but keeping them alive indoors needed some magical expertise, with which Merlin was more than happy to help.

"Oh, Merlin, they're _beautiful!_" Gwen put her hands to her chest in delight, looking about the flowers that grew all around her. Merlin looked surprised at her sudden appearance, but smiled widely.

"You like them? Good. Just, don't tell Arthur. I was supposed to make sure you didn't see them until tonight."

She shook her head. "That man. Always trying to surprise me." She shook her head. "I'll just make sure and look extra surprised tonight. I won't tell if you won't?" She came up beside her old friend and gave him a conspirator's grin. Merlin only laughed, and she wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you, Merlin," she gave a friendly squeeze and pulled away. "It really does mean a lot- and, Merlin, what's this?" Gwen frowned fractionally and reached up to touch his cheek. "Are you growing a _beard_?" She chuckled.

Merlin looked momentarily stunned and put a hand to his own chin, which felt rather scraggly. With his dark hair, the shadow was probably already visible, he realized. He blushed. "Oh, er, eh… No, I, eh, I just forgot to shave." He smiled at her, and she merely shook her head at him.

"You're as bad as Arthur. I'm constantly having to remind him to stay clean-shaven. Lately he's become convinced that I secretly fancy goatees on him." She glanced about and then whispered, "I really don't." They both chuckled. A voice sounded down the hallway: Arthur. "Oh, I'd better go. Don't want him realizing I've ruined his surprise! Thank you so much, Merlin!" Gwen gave his arm an affectionate pat before she left. Merlin smiled, but put his hand to his face after she'd gone. He probably should go shave, come to think of it.

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><p>That night, the castle was packed to the brim with nobles and peasants alike, along with an exotic sprinkling of magical folk who had become allies with Camelot over the past year. There was Alator, a personal friend of Merlin's, several druid elders, and standing to one side like the embodiment of regality itself was, of course,<p>

"Aithusa!"

Aithusa's head spun on his neck at the voice, and when he spotted Merlin, he smiled. "Father!" He replied with far more composure and maturity than he had in times past, and now it only took his long legs a few steps to reach the dragonlord.

"I didn't know you'd be here so early," Merlin smiled up at him. Aithusa smiled back.

"I didn't know I'd be here so early, either. Kilgarrah sends his regards."

"Still not keen on visiting?"

"You know him,"

"Mmm," Merlin agreed. "Either way, it's great to see you again – I've missed you." Merlin stepped forward and hugged the white dragon around the neck, which was still just low enough that Merlin could manage it. Aithusa dipped his head over Merlin's shoulder in kind.

"You as well, father," the dragon said. Far from the chattering, clumsy, rambunctious dragonling that had left Merlin's care some months ago, Aithusa had grown into a mature, impressive and well-spoken dragon in a relatively short amount of time. According to what Merlin had read, dragons reached mental adulthood within a matter of months, but would continue growing physically throughout their lives. Merlin didn't want to think of how big Aithusa might get one day, as he was nearly as big as a draft horse as it was. Still, after he'd reached maturity, his growth had slowed down quite a bit, and his features had evened out.

The horn on the left side of his face was still chipped at its tip from an incident from long ago, but no one but those who knew about it would notice. His scales, no longer dulled from continuous molting, were pearly and shining and made him more beautiful that he would ever admit. Also, while Aithusa had spoken in a halted, high-pitched form of English in his younger days, as he grew and mastered the human tongue, his voice had developed into a fluid, deep baritone that resonated with the wisdom and power so long associated with dragons. Of course, Merlin knew that deep down, there was still the same clumsy hatchling that he remembered, just waiting to come out. Regal he may have been, but Aithusa was nothing if not adventurous, playful, and just a touch mischievous. Merlin was overjoyed to see him again.

"How long will you be staying?" He asked hopefully.

"Not long, I'm afraid. Kilgarrah wants me to go out to the Eastern Mountains again before summer," Aithusa looked at his 'father' apologetically. Merlin's heart fell.

"Oh," He said, trying not to show his disappointment. It didn't work. "Still trying to track down the rumors, eh?"

Aithusa nodded. "If there _are _any more dragons left in the world, Kilgarrah is convinced they've taken refuge there. We've already scoured the caves once, but… He's determined. I wish I didn't have to go. I'm sorry, Father." Merlin waved the apology away.

"Don't be." He forced a smile, even though Aithusa could see through him better than anyone else. "Let's just enjoy ourselves tonight, hmm?"

But try as he might, Merlin never did really enjoy himself that night.

He'd gone first to say hello to his old mentor, Gaius, and although the physician was as familiar and fatherly as Merlin ever remembered, he was, for it all, rather distracted from Merlin's company by the presence of his old friend and love, Alice. Alice had returned to Camelot only a few months ago, after hearing the ban on magic had been lifted, and she and Gaius spent their days recounting the stories and tales of their youth, stories which, while however interesting, meant nearly nothing to Merlin. After several minutes of talking with Gaius, the two went off on another one of their tangents, and Merlin, feeling excluded, slowly slipped away. Neither seemed to notice.

Next, he'd gone to see the knights.

"Ah, Merlin!" Of course Gwaine was the first to see him and the first to shove a tankard in his face. "Come to join the real party, eh? He gestured around himself at the rest of the knights, who all seemed considerably closer to sobriety than Gwaine. As he gestured for another refill, Percival asked,

"Do you really think that's a good idea, Gwaine?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Percy,"

"Don't call me that."

"Ah," Gwaine smirked drunkenly and turned to look at his colleague. "I see, only the Lady Aurella can call you that, eh?" And while Percival went red, the rest seemed unaffected past good-natured smiles. Sir Percival had developed a long-standing relationship with one of the court ladies over the past months, and while everyone was perfectly happy for him, he was incredibly bashful about the whole matter. Gwaine liked exploiting the fact as often as he got the chance.

"Red as a turnip," Gwaine chuckled.

"So are you,"

Gwaine knew he was flushed in the face from drinking, but he decided to play the fool. "Don't worry about me, Perce," Gwaine swiped at his mouth, "I can hold my liquor."

"Maybe for now," Leon piped in, "but if you don't watch yourself, it'll be all over your bedroom floor, tonight." They all laughed, and as the barmaid came by to hand Gwaine his next tankard, Merlin decided to intervene.

"For the sake of the castle floorboards, then," And before Gwaine could lay hands on it, the tankard floated off its tray and into the hands of Merlin. The serving maid gasped.

"Thank you, Elisse," Merlin smiled, "But I don't think Sir Gwaine will be needing any more of these." She smiled at him and curtsied, and then floated away.

"Wait a minute, come back here," Gwaine called after Elisse, too late.

"Gwaine, you don't need any more drink tonight." Elyan scolded his friend. Gwaine stood drunkenly to his feet, smiling.

"Not interested in drinking," He said, before staggering after Elisse, who was admittedly rather pretty. Elyan shook his head.

"I'd better make sure he doesn't go sick on her or something. Why Gwaine thinks he's so good with women, I'll never understand. Have a good night, then," Elyan tipped his head at his friends and jogged after Gwaine before he could do too much damage.

Merlin laughed. He opened his mouth to start a conversation with the others, but before he could,

"Leon, they're getting ready to dance," It was a lady's voice, "Would you like to join me?" Merlin recognized the speaker as the silversmith's daughter, who seemed to have developed a fondness for Leon. Leon didn't seem to mind.

"I'd love to," He grinned, and even though he had a reputation as a horrid dancer, the young girl beamed at him. They left Percival and Merlin to themselves as the sound of tables scraping against floors sounded from where a dancing floor was being arranged in the center of the room. The fiddlers and flautists were tuning up.

"I'd better go find Aurella," Percival said, sending Merlin a shy smile. He patted the Sorcerer on the back, which nearly knocked the man over, and strode away to find his love.

Realizing that he was suddenly alone, Merlin glanced about himself to find someone to talk to, maybe even an old friend from the serving staff that might want to dance, but he found no one. Suddenly downcast, he looked down at his image reflected in the tankard his still held and noticed that he'd missed a spot when he was shaving. He wondered why no had told him.

"Merlin," Arthur's voice sounded from his right, and Merlin looked up to see the king smiling at him. "Thanks again for all of the flowers. Gwen loved the surprise," He said, smiling over to where his wife was ogling the display of color around the room.

"Glad I could help, Sire." Merlin told him. Arthur was too distracted to noticed the warlock's strained tone.

"She's worth it. Amazing woman, Guinevere," Arthur said proudly. Merlin could only agree, and Arthur added: "Can' t believe it's been a year already." He smiled and glanced around the hall happily for a moment, then looked down at his friend. "Are you going to dance, Merlin?"

"Nah," he shrugged. He couldn't bear to tell Arthur the truth, to explain how he had no one to dance with, so he said lamely, "You know me. All feet and elbows. I prefer to watch, anyway." And although both of them knew that Merlin had become a perfectly capable dancer, Arthur accepted the excuse with a laugh. The fiddler struck up the introduction to the first song, and Arthur turned to Merlin and spread his arms.

"How do I look? Think Gwen will approve?"

"Of course she will."

"Good," Arthur smiled, looking across the room at the queen, who was heading toward the dance floor with the other ladies. "Women are so particular about looks. By the way," He turned back to Merlin, "I think you've missed a spot, just there," He gestured at his own jawline for emphasis, and Merlin felt at the patch of stubble that he'd missed when shaving. Arthur chuckled good naturedly. "Maybe you need to find a woman to look after _your_ looks, Merlin."

From Arthur's tone, Merlin knew he was meant to take it as a joke, so he grinned up at the king with intentional incredulity. Arthur smiled. "Or not," He shrugged. The dance was waiting on him, now, so he gave Merlin one last pat on the back and rushed away to lead his wife out onto the dance floor. The rest of the court followed. They spun about to the music, smiling and delighting in each other's company.

Merlin felt out of place. Part of him felt as though he should be out there as well, but then he remembered that he hadn't anyone to dance with. More and more as of late, he'd begun to wish that he did. Merlin knew that Arthur didn't think actually think that he needed a woman, that, as far as Arthur was concerned, Merlin was and would forever be the boyish bachelor who honestly couldn't care less, but Merlin knew himself better than that. Deep down, he longed for that kind of partnership, longed for a lifelong friend who would always look after him, whom he could care for and look after.

"_I'll look after you,"_

He winced at the memory.

He knew he had family here in Camelot. He knew he had friends. Gaius, Arthur, Gwen, Aithusa, the knights… He was surrounded by people who loved him, yet he'd never felt more alone, and he knew they would never understand that. Across the room, the dance ended and Arthur stopped to give a speech in praise of his wife, a speech that Merlin had helped him to write.

Everyone had someone. Everyone but him.

Suddenly, Merlin felt that he couldn't bear their smiling faces, their merriment and dancing. No one noticed when he left.

When he reached his tower, the rooms were just as empty as he remembered them being. He begrudgingly shaved off the stubble he'd missed before and wondered if there was any other spot he'd missed. He rolled over into bed and wished that his tower wasn't so painfully quiet. He tried to repress the old pain that had been rising in his chest over the past few months, a pain that he desperately wished he could forget. It didn't work. Whether he would admit it or not, there hadn't ever been a time when Merlin remembered missing her quite this much.

_Freya_.


	2. Because it Hurts

**A/N:** Thank all of you for your wonderful reviews! To be honest, I wasn't expecting so much feedback! You guys are awesome.

I'll be honest, I cried when I wrote this chapter. Pathetic, isn't it? I BLAME PANDORA. (All of my sappiest/saddest scenes are written while listening to the John Powell station)

Enjoy!

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><p>It was Gwen who first noticed.<p>

"Where's Merlin?" She'd asked Arthur halfway through their dance.

"Said he's not going to dance tonight," Arthur told her, "Some horrid excuse of not dancing well, though I know he just doesn't want to." He rolled his eyes. Gwen remained concerned.

"Yes, I'd noticed that, but… _where _is he?"

"Oh," Arthur turned in step with the dance so Gwen was facing the right direction. "He's just over the-" And he stopped and frowned when he didn't see Merlin. "Well, he _was_just there last time I saw him. Perhaps he's with Gaius?"

Gwen twisted her neck around. Gaius and Alice had stepped out of dancing long ago. "No," She said, seeing only the physician and his lady friend, "I don't know where he is."

Arthur looked slightly troubled. All of his knights were accounted for on the dancing floor (save Gwaine, who was too drunk to walk straight, let alone dance) so Merlin couldn't possibly be with them. Where _was_ that man?"

"I'm sure he's just stepped out for some air. You know him, not too fond of crowds," Arthur said. Although the king seemed content with his own excuse, something in Gwen's gut kept her uneasy.

"I suppose…" She said, though not wholeheartedly. Nevertheless, she put on a smile and determined herself to enjoy the rest of the evening. She convinced herself that Merlin would be back in a few minutes, as Arthur said.

But he didn't show up. After asking around, Gwen was told that Merlin had retired to his chambers hours ago. She thought it was severely unlike him to leave a celebration so early, but since it was too late to go and ask why he'd left, she merely asked one of her maids to make sure that the Court Sorcerer was looked after and left some breakfast for the next day. It was the least she could do.

The rest of the party went by quickly and joyously, though most of the court seemed just the slightest bit off without Merlin there as well. Still, the King and Queen both enjoyed the feast immensely, and were both smiling by the time the last partygoers had left the grand hall. Still, as she fell asleep that night, a concerned thought still lingered in the back of Gwen's mind: _Merlin._

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><p>Merlin awoke to see his window curtains glowing with sunlight. A shadow flitted across the back of the fabric as a noisy little swallow flew away from where it'd been chirping like a personal wake-up call for the Court Sorcerer, and groggily, Merlin sat up in bed.<p>

In an unspecific wave of fatigue, Merlin realized that he had absolutely no desire to move. Something told him he should be up by now, but then, part of him wondered why. He didn't bother changing from his baggy night shirt when he walked out of his room. On the second story of his tower, the floors were wooden, but his bare feet discovered that they were just as cold as the stone would be downstairs. Blank-faced, he huddled himself on the sofa and dug his feet into a blanket there.

Reminders of his sudden depression banged around in his head, words from the mouths of the knights, Arthur, and others who had unintentionally hit a nerve with their innocent comments and cheer. It wasn't their fault, Merlin knew, and he tried not to blame any of them for the heavy cloud on his heart, but part of him just couldn't help but resent them for it. Amid all the internal gabble, he tried hardest to ignore that one name, the name that hurt the most. Even unspoken, the name cause him pain.

Suddenly, his stomach growled. He looked down at it and sighed. He didn't make it habit to keep his pantry stocked, even though he had his own small kitchen downstairs. He supposed this meant a trip to the palace kitchens, which would mean going down through the main hall, which would mean getting dressed… Merlin hauled himself up from the couch. As soon as he turned around, he stopped.

"Gwen!" He said in surprised, suddenly unsure of what to do. "I didn't, ehhmm… What are you doing here?" He asked, wishing he'd changed clothes earlier. She was holding a tray of food, he saw, and wondered why.

"Oh, you are awake." She smiled at him. "I just thought that you'd be a bit hungry, and most of the staff is sleeping, after all their work last night, so…" She looked down at the breakfast tray she was holding. "It's still warm," She said after he didn't respond.

"Oh, of course," he said, snapping out of his surprise. "I, uh, thanks, Gwen. You didn't have to do that. I'll just… Go change now."

"Oh, Merlin, it's fine – It's just me, after all."

And that was one of the things that made Gwen his best friend. She was such a sister figure to him, it didn't matter if he was in his sleep clothes or not. Internally, his heart warmed and it showed ever so slightly in his smile as he sat down with her and began to eat.

"Why'd you leave so early last night? I was looking for you," Gwen told him.

"Oh," A mask slid up over Merlin's face as he shrugged away the question. "I'm not all one for parties. I was getting tired," He said. She frowned at him, wishing he didn't feel the need to make up excuses.

"Merlin," She said seriously, "I don't believe that for one second." He looked down at his feet, and she waited for a moment before saying kindly, "What's _really_ wrong?" They'd abandoned any attempt at eating as the conversation grew serious, but Merlin continued to pick at the piece of bread in his hand.

"Oh, you know…" Merlin was clearly uncomfortable "Just…" he looked like he was searching for the right words, but suddenly cut himself off. "You know what? It's not important." He smiled at her. "Don't worry about it."

"_Merlin._" Gwen put a hand on his arm and looked him in the eye. "It _is_ important. It's important to me. You can tell me, Merlin."

He looked down at her and realized, with her pure gentleness and their close friendship, he was fighting a losing battle. He desperately needed to confide in someone, and Gwen was the only person he could imagine confiding in about this particular subject. His shoulders slumped and he sighed as he tried to find a good place to start. Gwen watched patiently.

"It's just…" He took a breath and although he intended to say something far more lengthy and explanatory, only breathed out one word, "…lonely." He tried to smile up at her. "I mean, seeing you, Arthur, everyone so happy, it's amazing. I know that you two love each other, it's good to see that," Gwen smiled at this concession, "And all the knights, and Gaius, and, and… well, _everyone_ is so happy." He was smiling, but as he spoke, Gwen began to realize that it was a façade. "And I'm happy for you. But… I just, I had to go. I'm sorry I didn't stay longer."

He hadn't answered Gwen's question. If anything, he'd raised several more. She thought over what he'd said before asking,

"…Are _you_ happy, Merlin?"

He'd looked at her with such speechlessness that he didn't need to answer. He realized this and didn't bother to try. Instead, he turned his eyes back to his feet.

"Merlin, why ever not?" She asked kindly. It looked like it pained him to think about what she'd asked. This was one of the many moments where she saw in Merlin a certain presence, a certain haunted look in his eyes that Arthur often spoke of, a look that reminded the king and queen just how little they really knew about their sorcerer friend. Merlin thought for a moment more before he said,

"When… When you lost your father, Gwen," Only Merlin could bring up such a touchy subject and not offend her, "Was it hard, seeing other people with their parents?"

"Of course," Gwen answered. She wasn't sure what Merlin was getting at, but she would go along with him to see what he had to say. "I couldn't stand it. It hurt." At this, Merlin nodded solemnly.

"It does hurt," He said, almost to himself. Then, to her, "It- it hurt last night..." He paused to take a strained breath, "To see everyone with each other. You, with Arthur, Percival with Aurella, Gaius and Alice, even. You all love each other so much. You're all so, _so_ lucky," he told her honestly, "and with so many lucky people, it's hard to admit that you're alone. It hurts. A lot. Especially when it wasn't always like that." He shrugged. "I couldn't bear to stay."

Gwen tried to absorb what he's just bared before her, words from his aching heart that revealed a side to her old friend that she'd never seen before. As she realized the full implications of what he'd just said, Gwen's eyes slowly opened to a part of Merlin that she'd never knew existed.

"Merlin… have you ever been so 'lucky', as you say?"

All at once, his eyes were a million miles away, his face sagging with age he didn't yet have. "Once," he whispered.

There was a long silence before Gwen dared to ask, "What happened?"

Merlin closed his eyes against the pain. "She died," His voice wavered.

"Oh, Merlin," Gwen's heart ached for her friend. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

"Don't," Merlin said. "It's… You couldn't have known. It was a long time ago." His voice was clipped.

She wondered if he was sad over the one instance, or his lonely situation. "You know, Merlin, you don't have to be alone," She made her voice as caring as she could, "I know there's plenty of kind women here in Camelot who-"

"No," Merlin cut her off, "No," He said again, quieter. "It not like that. When I see you and Arthur, Gaius and Alice, it's not just me being reminded of how I don't have anyone, it's me remembering how I don't… _can't_ have her back." His eyes shone. "It's so much different. I don't just want love for love's sake, Gwen," He told her candidly, "I only ever wanted it because it was _her_ love." He sat there, staring at Gwen and through her. He blinked. "And now she's gone. And I know that I'll never find anyone like her again." She could see his adam's apple bobble as he tried to swallow something in his throat. "And it hurts," He said, the unshed tears making themselves evident in his voice. "It hurts _so much_. Time heals some things, Gwen, makes some losses easier… My father, Lancelot… I loved them both, but over time I've come to accept that they're gone." He swallowed and shook his head. "But she's different. The older I get, the longer she's been gone, the more I miss her.

"When we met, both of our lives were just starting. We thought… _I _ thought that, maybe, just maybe, we'd have time to figure it all out, together. That maybe," He shrugged, "Maybe neither of us would have to go through everything alone anymore. That we'd always be there," and finally the tears started to fall, "to look after each other. But… It didn't turn out that way. And when it doesn't all end happily… when you can't keep all promises you make," He swallowed painfully, "It hurts to see everyone else so happy with everything that you thought you'd have. Everything you never got a chance to have. Everything you know you'll never get back. _That's _why it hurts."

Merlin looked at her and realized all that he'd just said. Suddenly, he was self-conscious of what Gwen might think. He wiped furiously at his eyes and looked down, his voice still thick. "That's why I left," he said quietly. "Sorry," he added as an afterthought.

Gwen didn't say anything. She hardly moved for the several minutes of silence that followed, and even if Merlin had been able to look her in the eye, he wouldn't have been able to tell what she was thinking. She merely sat there, mouth slightly open, eyebrows drawn together in a look of pure pity, eyes on Merlin with a strange sort of understanding.

Then, without a single syllable, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. Although he wondered if he shouldn't, Merlin couldn't help it. His composure cracked and he latched onto her, dug his face in her shoulder and wept.

Gwen could feel him shaking as he just barely kept the sobs at bay, and she was inexplicably on the brink of tears herself. Now that she heard it all, she wondered why she had never guessed. Merlin was possibly the most loving, trusting soul she'd ever met. It was in his nature to love people and dedicate himself to those close to him, as if it was his sole purpose in life to make others happy. Part of her had always wondered a man with a heart like Merlin's, of all people, hadn't found someone to love yet. Now, she understood. Merlin _had_ loved someone, with every loving fiber of his being that made him so quintessentially _Merlin,_ and as it seemed, that someone had loved him back.

And yet, here he was, alone.

Merlin had a softer heart than most, and what Gwen knew she would take in agony had been eating away at Merlin for lord only knew how many years.

Comforting came naturally to Gwen; she hardly had to think about what she was doing. She stroked his hair and rubbed his back like a mother caring for her child, and in his vulnerable state the most powerful sorcerer ever to walk the earth let her, too emotionally weary to care if she saw him cry. Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that, and while part of Merlin didn't want to draw back for fear of how differently Gwen might see him after that, eventually, he broke their embrace and sniffled.

"Oh, look at me," He said pitifully, wiping his eyes and trying to downplay the pieces of his heart laid out on the proverbial table, "I'm in tears here, and you don't even know her name."

Gwen smiled at his ability to speak so strongly in the face of such grief, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. Gwen had learned over the past year that Merlin always hid personal tragedy behind that smile of his, and she often wondered how much it really hurt him. She put her hand over Merlin's to let him know she was there. Once he'd cleared his eyes and stopped sniffling, she very carefully gave his wrist a squeeze and asked,

"What was her name, Merlin?"

The look that crossed his face left no doubt in Gwen's mind that he still loved her very much.

"Freya," He said it as though he'd said it a thousand times before and wished he didn't have to stop. "Her name was Freya."


	3. A Visiting Ghost

**A/N: A note on the last chapter: **A few people have mentioned that the last chapter (chapter 2) of this story was rather melodramatic. Yes, it was, and it was intentional. I could've drawn it out a bit and made it less melodramatic, but I wanted to lay down the basic pre-plot emotional scene before I really start on the main plot, and a more melodramatic scene would, I thought, do this quickly and effectively. So maybe it's not the best. I might go re-write some of it later, but it does its job for now.

Also, a few people have brought some typos to my attention, so a big thanks you y'all. It really helps when people let me know of any mistakes I've made.

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><p>"What was she like?" Gwen asked quietly.<p>

Merlin smiled sadly. "Amazing," He said, and she smiled. Of course he would think so. "Strong and brave, in her own way. She lived a rough life, but she was so sweet."

Gwen didn't think Merlin realized that he'd just described himself. "Was she magic, like you?"

He paused before answering. "Yes," he nodded, "She was a druid."

Gwen nodded in understanding. "I bet she was very beautiful."

Merlin smiled. "She'll always be beautiful to me."

Gwen smiled bittersweetly. If Freya were still alive, she would truly be the luckiest girl in the world.

"I miss her," Merlin said after a while.

Gwen put replaced her hand on his back. "How did she die?" she whispered.

Merlin seemed to clam up all of a sudden. "It's… it's not important," He said.

"Merlin, don't say that," Gwen frowned, "Of course it's important – she's obviously important to you."

"Gwen, please," He gave her a pleading look, and she realized that she'd pressed him too far.

"Of course," She said humbly, "It was wrong of me to ask. I'm sorry." He shook her apology aside and began to stare of into space again. After several minutes of silence, Gwen peered at him with a concerned expression. "Will you be alright, Merlin?"

He broke from his trance and smiled at her. "Well, maybe not now. But I will be. Just… Give it some time." He looked down at his feet. "It always takes a little while to… To forget again." He gave her that same mask-like smile again. "I _will_ be alright, Gwen. It'll pass. It always does."

The last three words made her heart ache. _Always_. He'd dealt with this so many times he'd come to summarize it as one of life's everyday hassles. It shouldn't have to be that way.

"Well, alright," She said eventually. "I'll be here, Merlin, if you ever need to talk to someone. And I'm truly, very sorry." He nodded, and she reached up to hug him around the neck. She prayed silently that he wouldn't always feel so alone. Of all people, Merlin deserved it least. She pulled his head against her so she could kiss his temple before she sat back. "Now eat your breakfast before it freezes. I wish I could stay, but I have to go make sure Arthur doesn't try to cook his own breakfast."

Merlin smiled and thanked the powers that be that Gwen was there for him. She was a mother and a sister and a friend all at once. "Thank you, Gwen," He told her before she left. She merely smiled at him, and he knew that, gratitude or not, she'd always be there.

* * *

><p>Merlin had spoken with Aithusa about it all after Gwen had left. The dragon had listened kindly and compassionately to his lord, but was utterly unable to sympathize. Gwen, at least, knew what it was to be in a romantic relationship. Aithusa was still too young to care, even if there was a female dragon in existence, and was of little help. Still, his listening ear helped calm Merlin's mind and put him at ease, so when the dragon left the castle again, the Warlock had to change tactics.<p>

Arthur swore that Merlin was going to become a hunch-backed old hermit if he never came out of that blasted tower. The man hardly even left for meals, and was constantly tinkering away with his astronomy and alchemy equipment toward no apparent end. Eventually, Arthur took matters into his own hands.

"Merlin?" He called, opening the door. He could hear potions bubbling and mortar and pestals grinding around the room. Something dripped and fizzed into a beaker on the table to his left. Merlin was upstairs, but still shouted down to say,

"_Whatever you do, do _not_ touch the green one – it could kill you. Or the orange one. Or the… oh, just don't touch anything, prat!" _

Arthur rolled his eyes. Hermit or not, Merlin would never change. He smacked an empty beaker out of spite before Merlin could make it down the stairs.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, well it's nice to see you too, Merlin." Arthur feigned hurt. "No 'how nice to see you, Arthur' or 'wow, it's been a long time, Arthur,', 'I'm sorry I've disappeared of the face of the earth, Arthur'."

Merlin drew his eyebrows together. "What are you talking about?"

"Merlin, you haven't left this place for _five days_."

Merlin gave Arthur a thoroughly incredulous look and shook his head. "I don't think it's been _that_ long." He turned and began to fiddle with a stiller that was slowly dripping out a volatile black substance. Arthur grabbed the man's wrist and wrenched him around so he was looking at Arthur.

"_Yes. _It _has._"

Merlin looked at him, half shocked and half hurt, and Arthur's expression softened.

"What's gotten into you?" The king asked, genuinely concerned. Merlin avoided his gaze.

"Nothing, I just… It's… it's nothing." And Arthur knew immediately from his face that it was anything _but_ nothing, but decided to let it pass for the time being. He sighed.

"I don't believe you, but fine, have it your way. Just please, Merlin, it's not healthy. You have to get out of here, at least for a little while."

Merlin paused to think before looking up apprehensively. "…Has it really been five days?"

"Yes."

"Oh." He looked down at the floor. A silence passed between them.

"At least join us for dinner in the hall tonight, Merlin. If you don't show up, I've given Gwaine permission to physically drag you to anywhere that _isn't_ here, and knowing him, he'll probably choose the tavern. So please, be there. I don't want to have to deal with a hung-over sorcerer _again_." Arthur's tone left no room for argument. He turned to leave, but paused to add: "Oh, and Merlin, before tonight, you might want to _bathe._"

Merlin frowned at the last comment, and picked at his shirt after Arthur left. He took and experimental sniff and reeled. Maybe Arthur was right. He'd been in that tower for far too long.

* * *

><p>Gwen hadn't seen hair or hide of Merlin since they'd spoken about Freya, and she'd begun to grow rather worried about him. When he arrived in the dining hall that night, she was pleased to see that he was clean, alive, and smiling. However, she also noticed that his cheeks seemed a bit more sunken-in than they should have been, his eyes too dark. He obviously hadn't been eating or sleeping well. She bit her lip. Gwen would always feel some measure of motherly instinct toward the men in her life, but for some reason, Merlin in particular always seemed to need extra care. Hunith visited from Ealdor frequently, but in the times that she was away, Gwen upheld an unspoken pact between herself and the warlock's mother that Merlin would always have someone to care for him. Gwen knew that if Hunith could see her son now, she'd be all wrung up with worry.<p>

Still, she made no comment. The other members of the court, who had seen even less of Merlin than Gwen had in the past week, made surprised, pleased greetings as the Court Sorcerer took his seat beside the King at the table. Merlin smiled back, but Gwen noticed that he was using his mask smile again. She thought about asking him privately if he was alright, but then he and Arthur struck up a banter over Arthur's competence in table cutlery, and his mood seemed to lighten considerably.

They ate their dinner in relative quiet aside from the buzz of dinnertime conversation and the banter between Arthur and Merlin. Eventually, however, as servants took away the remainder of the meal, Arthur cleared his throat for the attention of the room.

"Before we wrap up this delightful dinner," He nodded his thanks to the chef, who himself was helping clean up, "I would like to let all of you know that in a short time, we will be hosting visitors in Camelot. Earlier this week, I received a request of visitation from Lord Valas, a ruler from the western kingdom of Drailynn who wishes to strike up a treaty of peace with Camelot."

A murmur of interest went around the table, but Geoffrey spoke up. "I don't believe I've seen that name in any of Camelot's records, your Majesty. Has he visited here before?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. Magic runs in his family," he shot a glance at Merlin. As he'd expected, the Warlock's eyebrows had risen in sudden interest. "In his letter, he explained that he has avoided contact with Camelot in the past for fear of war over magic. They have just now received word that the ban has been repealed, and wish to make peace."

"That's good, isn't it?" Gwen whispered to him, "A peace treaty with a magically ruled kingdom would be healthy for Camelot."

"I thought so as well," Arthur responded in kind. "What do you think, Merlin?" He quirked an eyebrow at the court sorcerer, who shrugged and nodded his head.

"I would say so, though I wasn't aware of _any_ kingdoms with magically-skilled monarchs."

"Yes, well, I didn't know about _you_ until last year." Arthur reminded him. Merlin conceded the point. The king turned back to the main table.

"He and his embassy will arrive in two fortnights. Between now and then, we shall make preparations for their arrival, where we shall treat them to a banquet and a dance in their honor. I hope that his visit will bring new allies and new peace to Camelot." He smiled at the court and nodded. "That is all. I wish you all a good night."

* * *

><p>The following weeks were underlined with the constant buzz of preparing the castle for visitors; cleaning out the empty suites, sprucing up the décor of the hallways, revving up the kitchen for a full-blown banquet. There was also gossip about the visiting lord, his magical background, and what an alliance with him might look like to Camelot. The king and queen took it in stride, but the court sorcerer was growing over-excited with the prospect of official relations with a magical family.<p>

Gwen, for one, was happy for the distraction on Merlin's part. After his week-long respite to his tower she'd grown worried that he'd worked himself into a rut of depression that he wouldn't get out of easily. Now, however, all thoughts of his loneliness seemed to have been alleviated, at least for the moment, by his excitement over Camelot's coming visitors.

"I wonder if he was born with magic, like me," He'd ask her as he rummaged through his books on magic.

"Do you think he has a large family?"

"Suppose they use a different dialect of spells in the west."

"I can't wait to talk with him."

"When will he be here, again?"

"D'you think his subjects might have magic, too?"

"Maybe he's come up with a whole _guard_ of sorcerers."

"What if some of them could stay in Camelot – I wouldn't be the only one!"

"I just _can't_ _wait _to meet him!"

His boyish excitement was so eager, so sincere that Gwen couldn't help but smile as she watched him, day after day, pace around his room and try to brush up on all things magical that he could discuss and ask Lord Valas about. She felt a slight pang of guilt over the fact that even a year after the ban on magic was repealed, Merlin was still the lone sorcerer in Camelot. There were some petty magicians, yes, and a few tentative pupils, but none who began to compare to Merlin's skill and raw power. Perhaps that was another reason he'd grown so lonely: even in a world where magic was legal, Merlin stood isolated from his kin. Yes, Gwen thought, it would be good for Merlin to meet others like him.

Tension and excitement ran high during the last week before Lord Valas arrived. But under the knowledgeable direction of the Queen herself, the castle staff managed to pull off the preparations without a hitch, and Merlin had straightened up his usually disastrous quarters to model a spick-and-span magical haven. He'd even decided to pull out his best robes for the Lord's arrival, premium neckerchief and all.

"You look dapper, Merlin," Gwen commented slyly when he arrived (late as always) in the courtyard to welcome the incoming Lord. She smiled when the sorcerer blushed.

"Eh, I try. Is Valas here yet? Have they seen him? How big a party has he got?"

Gwen laughed at the comically serious look on his face. She bumped his arm in a friendly way. "Calm down, Merlin. Remember to only ask _one _question at a time when he gets here, alright?"

The heralds blew their trumpets, and Merlin spotted the flutter of red capes as Leon and Elyan escorted the wooden carriage into the courtyard. Merlin straightened his posture and tried not to fidget at they made their way through the gates. Valas' company was surprisingly small, consisting of only a few men-at-arms and a pageboy, all dressed in blue surcoats embossed with Valas' crest: a single sword emerging from between two mountain peeks. The pageboy scurried around the carriage to open the door.

The man who stepped out reminded Merlin immediately of Geoffrey, though slightly less expansive in the gut and with a magically glint in his eye.

"Lord Valas," Arthur greeted with a polite bow. "Welcome to Camelot."

"It is a high honor to finally meet you, King Arthur," He bowed low, as was expected. Arthur nodded.

"The honor is mine. May I introduce my wife, Queen Guinevere," bows and curtsies were exchanged, "and Camelot's Court Sorcerer, Merlin Emrys." Gwen noticed a flash of severe interest in Valas' eyes at the name 'Emrys', but then, she shouldn't have been surprised. She _was _surprised, however, when Merlin didn't respond. Valas bowed and noted his pleasure at finally meeting the great Emrys, but Merlin didn't react in the slightest. When Gwen looked at him, his face was frozen in a raw expression of shock, fright, and some other emotion that she'd never seen on Merlin's face before. But why? Arthur peeked around his wife to look at his silent friend.

"Merlin?" He asked uncertainly.

Merlin wasn't even looking at Valas, they all realized. He was looking above him and past him, back toward the carriage. Arthur and Gwen looked up and Valas turned around to see what – or rather, _who_ – they were looking at.

"Ah," The lord broke into a smile. "How could I possibly forget." He spread his arms affectionately.

A young woman stood there, hair and eyes dark against her pale skin and dress. She was pretty, but in all rather ordinary looking. Gwen wondered why Merlin was staring at her. Gwen's confusion grew when she realized that _she _was staring at _him_, her eyes full of something that Gwen could only describe as dread. But _why?_ She cast inconspicuous looks between the two as Lord Valas began to speak.

"Your Majesties, Lord Emrys, may I humbly introduce my daughter," He tenderly took her hand and ushered her forward, "The Lady Freya."

Arthur and the rest seemed unaffected, but for Gwen it was as though lightning had struck the moment the name left Valas' lips. It echoed in her mind in a growing crescendo as the intense look between the lady and Merlin made sense all at once. _It can't possibly be,_ Gwen thought as she kindly curtsied. Freya and Merlin also lowered themselves in courtesy, but not once did their eyes leave each other's faces. _But then, it must be._

Although Arthur was confused by Merlin's strange behavior, no one but Gwen seemed to notice how the two continued to stare at each other as Camelot's knights led Lord Valas' entourage toward the castle. Freya was the one who broke the look first, and hurried past Merlin in a swirl of blue velvet, her eyes trained on the ground. Merlin, for his part, stayed exactly where he was, his eyes staring straight ahead, his face as white as a sheet. Gwen thought he looked like he'd seen a ghost. She watched Freya as she hurried behind her father toward the castle doors.

_That's because he has._


	4. Impossible Reunion

**A/N: Woah! I was unaware that there were **_**this**_** many Freylin shippers hanging around here, but you guys have really come out of the woodwork to review! They're such an under-appreciated pairing, I figured it must be unpopular. Still, they will forever be my Merlin OTP. Thank you all for your **_**amazing**_** reviews, and a special shoutout to ****Hiberian Princess**, **who I may officially dub as Lady Awesome for her extensive, helpful reviews. Thank you so, so much!**

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><p>If he could hear his heart pounding so loudly in his ears, then why wasn't there any blood in his face? Merlin swallowed and blinked in a daze, trying to fight back a wave of nausea that made him sway slightly as he turned back toward the castle. Gwen was looking at him as though he might fall over any second, and Merlin didn't blame her. It was all talk and noise and fuss as the king and his new visitors made their way inside, but Merlin didn't hear it. He only saw it, saw <em>her<em>, saw the thing that was not supposed to be possible, standing there, walking, talking, breathing.

_How are you here?_ He stared at the back of her head as though he could somehow psychically communicate with her. She ignored him.

"…of those spells, too – aren't you, Merlin?" Arthur had been speaking to Freya, but he turned now to address Merlin. Freya turned with him, and Merlin couldn't help but to stare for a moment. "…Merlin?" Arthur prodded. The sorcerer jumped out of his trance.

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure," He hoped it was the right answer.

"How long have you been studying magic, Lady Freya?" Arthur asked conversationally, glancing oddly at Merlin a few times. When she spoke, Merlin's throat hitched on itself. If he'd harbored any doubts before, that voice dispelled them all. This really was her. This was Freya. His Freya. Alive. _But how?_

"Just for a few years," she told Arthur kindly. "I didn't inherit all of my father's ability." Arthur nodded, trying his hardest to ignore how Merlin was completely white and wobbling slightly in the knees and throat. Freya glanced at him, too, and when she did her smile disappeared, replaced by a look of pure concern and apology. Merlin was ready to run away then and there, but luckily Gwen intervened so he wouldn't have to.

"Lord Valas, Milady," She smiled kindly, "My handmaiden, Sybil, will show you to your rooms now. You've had a long journey, you can rest for the afternoon." The two nobles thanked her and followed the serving girl up a flight of stairs. Gwen then turned back to Merlin, but when she looked, he was already gone.

* * *

><p>After six years as a physician's apprentice, Merlin knew perfectly well what hyperventilation was, and he knew that if he didn't calm down quickly, he'd be lying unconscious on the floor within a few minutes.<p>

Freya. Here. Camelot. . Daughter. Visit. Freya. _Alive. Freya._ He'd been able to hold himself together for the long walk to his tower, but once he was inside his own chambers, all coherency and composure had flown out the window. Now, the sweat poured off his brow in waves and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. He knew he was in the middle of a breakdown, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. All at once, his vision and hearing started to fade.

"…down, now just breathe slowly." Something soft and soothing was rubbing his back, and a chair had inexplicably appeared beneath him. Merlin felt a feverish chill run though him as thoughts of Freya's impossible appearance resurfaced. His breathing began to quicken again, and the hand left his back and went up to his neck, pressing his head down over his lap.

"Breathe, Merlin," He realized it was Gwen. He tried to obey, but it came in gasps and shudders, interrupted by his attempts at speech. "Not now, just breathe." She resumed rubbing calming circles on his back with her other hand and waited for his quick gasping to calm down before she let him sit upright.

"Can't be here," He was rambling, "Not possible… dead… how she here?" He looked up at Gwen, eyes full of pure shock, not knowing what to do.

"I don't know, Merlin," Gwen spoke softly, "but I do know that right now, you need to calm down. Alright? Breathe. I'll get you some water."

He couldn't have tried to protest if he wanted to, so he simply stayed there and bent his head into shaking hands. _How, how, how, how,_ the thought throbbed in time with his heart. It was impossible. It had been one thing for him to see her at the Lake – that was magic. That had an explanation. This was totally different.

"Here," Gwen gave him the cup, but his hands were shaking too much to keep the water inside the glass. She took it back and wordlessly lifted it to his lips.

This was mad, all of it. He wasn't a child. He wasn't a fool. He was _Emrys_, for the love of Camelot – a _dragonlord._ And yet, here he was, a shaking, helpless mess, all for seeing one unexpected person. _But she is dead,_ his mind whispered, _of course you're in shock!_ But part of him wondered if he really should be.

The next several minutes were a blur to Merlin. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice when Gwen guided him to the couch or threw a blanket over his shoulders, or when she came and sat down next to him. For all he knew, she'd appeared there the moment he finally bothered to look around.

"Gwen, she can't be here - she's _dead_."

"So she is _your_ Freya, then," Gwen confirmed quietly. Merlin only nodded. "She seemed to recognize you."

"_But how is she here?_"

The look he gave her was so helpless, so panicked and unsure that it took Gwen several moments to answer. "I don't know, Merlin." She told him. "I really, really don't."

"And… what should I do?"

There was a long silence before Gwen shrugged and suggested something that may have been crazy. "Maybe… maybe you could talk to her."

She'd expected him to look terrified, and he did. But there was something else in his eyes, too – quiet, newfound resolve.

* * *

><p>The banquet that night was torture for Merlin. The seating arrangements had ended up so that he was sitting directly across from Freya. Too far away to talk, but close enough that he couldn't help but see her, no matter where he looked. She seemed to look everywhere except at him, and it only made matters worse. After Merlin forced himself to smile and make light conversation with Lord Valas, who was quite talkative (especially with Merlin, being another magic-user) the servants hauled away the remains of dinner and started moving tables to make way for dancing.<p>

Looking back, Merlin should've seen it coming, but at the very moment when Arthur came up and put a hand to his back, he was caught completely unawares.

"You should ask the Lady Freya to dance, Merlin." He'd said it easily, as it were the most non-consequential thing in the world. And perhaps it was, to him. Merlin reacted as thought he'd been slapped.

"What? _Why_?" He snapped at the king, and Arthur looked surprised and annoyed.

"What is _with _you today?" he regarded Merlin with _that _look, a vestige of the days when Merlin was still Arthur's servant. "Are you feeling alright, Merlin?" He looked his friend up and down, as though he might find some malady hiding behind his neckerchief.

"Me? I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine? I'm always fine, perfectly… fine…" He trailed off in a disturbed tone as he looked over at Freya.

"You've been acting like a wounded cat this whole evening, ever since Valas arrived. You have a headache or something?"

Merlin grit his teeth. Trust Arthur to come up with something as stupid as a headache, he thought. "Something like that." He lied. He instantly regretted it; lying to Arthur was such a habit after all those years. Now, every white lie hurt him. Still, he couldn't find a reason to apologize.

"Well," Arthur sighed, "see Gaius about it later. You should still ask Freya to dance; you're the closest thing to an Ambassador of Magic we've got, and I want to make a good impression. So for God's sake, be nice." Arthur slapped Merlin on the back and strode away. Merlin gulped. With a white-knuckled fist frustrating his trouser leg, he walked toward Valas and Freya. When she saw him, she looked terrified for a split second, but quickly regained her composure and smiled at him. It bit into his heart and memory. He smiled back anyway.

"Lord Valas," he nodded to the white-headed man, who smiled and acknowledged the warlock in a friendly way. Merlin turned to the lord's daughter. "Lady Freya," he was shocked when his voice didn't waver. "Would you care to dance?" He looked up at her and extended his hand. She blinked, then smiled and put her hand in his. At the contact, his throat inexplicably closed up, and he was inexpressibly glad that he wasn't required to say anything as he led her to the dance floor. The song began, and wordlessly, Merlin stepped into one of the tensest, most surreal dances of his life.

A little ways away, Gwen spotted Freya with Merlin and almost gasped. _Oh Arthur,_ She thought, subconsciously grabbing his arm tighter under her hand, _you've no idea what you're putting him through._ Merlin's face was a puzzle caught somewhere between terror and curiosity. His back was stiff, and he kept his eyes studiously away from Freya's face. Freya was looking up at him uneasily, as if she was waiting for him to make eye contact. Gwen had to look away before the concern began to show on her face and Arthur caught on. Merlin would have to handle this on his own.

Merlin, for his part, couldn't remember having ever before felt the need to spontaneously cry for joy and scream for terror, but was now finding the compulsion a maddening mix that made dancing rather difficult. He tried to ignore her. He looked at the ceiling to distract himself, listened over-intently to the chords of the music, did anything he could possibly do to forget that Freya, his Freya, lovely, perfect, _dead_ Freya was somehow here in his arms, _dancing _with him. It had actually been working relatively well, until she decided to speak. That's when he cracked.

"Merlin," the way she said his name let him know that she had never once forgotten him. He couldn't have spoken then if he wanted to. "Merlin, please look at me."

He wasn't sure if his head or his heart that burst before the other, but regardless, something in him collapsed and he dared to look. Her face was so different than he remembered, but then, so exactly the same. For a moment, they just looked at each other, and Merlin wondered how they were still dancing.

"Freya," His voice cracked, and though he couldn't tell, she was fighting tears. "_How are you here?"_ He whispered, his face in anguish. She blinked rapidly up at him.

"I can explain, Merlin, I _will._ But not here. Not now."

"But _how?_"

She smiled. That _smile._ His heart had taken enough that night, he thought, how could she possibly hurt him more? "I always said we'd see each other again," She told him, but her eyes were sad. "Though I never thought it'd be like this."

He couldn't think of anything to say, so he only stared at her, eyes begging an answer, _any _ answer. The song was drawing to a close. Their dance would be over, soon. "I'm sorry, my love," She whispered, just before they stopped and the room applauded the musicians. As they exchanged bows, Freya caught Merlin's hand and whispered into his ear:

"I'll find you, tonight, and explain if I can."

And before he could ask what she'd meant by 'if I can', she was gone, and Merlin was standing alone in the middle of the room. Gwaine was looking at him strangely. Gwen looked concerned. Blinking away confusion and something else, Merlin hurried off the dance floor. He didn't have to fake the headache Arthur had asked about earlier to excuse himself to his quarters.

Freya watched him go, her heart breaking. She felt eyes on her, and turned to see Valas watching her with a message in his eyes. Her heart jumped unpleasantly, and she smiled at him unconvincingly. He smiled back, equally as sincere. They looked away from each other. She prayed to the skies above that Merlin would know what to do.

But then, how could he?

* * *

><p>He was pacing. There were too many thoughts running around his head for him to possibly think on just one, so he paced instead, franticly tracing the same circle around his tower rooms over and over again.<p>

To be honest, he wasn't sure if he'd _wanted_ to believe her when she said she'd find him, so her arrival came as a surprise, and he was speechless.

"Merlin?" She peeked around the door into the tower and, for a moment, seemed distracted by the wonderfully strange interior of Merlin's home. Then he appeared at the top of the stairs, they met each others' eyes, and froze. Slowly, he stepped down until he was right in front of her, looking down at her with an unreadable expression. He wanted to ask her how she was here. He wanted to ask her how she had a father. He wanted to ask her how she was alive. He wanted to ask her any number of things that seemed important, but in that moment, his small, broken voice could only manage one question.

"Is it really you?"

She looked up at him, and smiled slowly, sadly. She reached up a hand and touched his cheek. "Oh, Merlin, what has the world done to you?" She studied his face, so like what she'd known, what she'd grown to love, and yet so much wiser, so much darker, and so much sadder. "You're too young to be so old, Merlin."

He might've heard what she'd said, but she couldn't tell. "Freya," he said it like a name, but it sounded like a question, and his eyes begged desperately for an answer. She didn't move her hand from his face as she said,

"I've missed you."

Suddenly, he was crying, and he couldn't have stopped if he wanted to. He seized her in a hug and buried his face in her shoulder. His mind was racing through a flurry of memory, of broken promises and pain and somehow a rose-shaped strawberry. He couldn't have cared that he was soaking her shoulder in tears, because she was _here_. She was really, truly _here,_ and he didn't have to let her go.

Freya was hugging his neck in tears as well, but they were tears of a different kind. She was glad Merlin couldn't see the pain in her face as she looked pleadingly at the ceiling.

_I'm sorry, Merlin,_ she wanted to say, _so very, very sorry._


	5. Unexplained

A/N: Sorry I haven't update in a while. I'd lost most inspiration for this story for a while there, despite having the whole thing planned out (well, mostly). Hopefully writing this chapter will kickstart the creative process.

Enjoy chapter five, and THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed! You guys are amazing in every sense of the word.

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><p>For a long time, neither of them said anything. They held each other, and it was enough. It was <em>more <em>than enough.

For Merlin, it was long enough to convince himself that it was real.

For Freya, it was long enough to pretend it was real.

Real or not, it wasn't destined to last very long. Eventually, it had to end. Freya was the one who broke the embrace. She wiped at her eyes, but it was hardly any use. "Merlin," she said, reaching up to wipe at his red eyes, "Merlin, we can't stay like this _all_ night,"

"Why not?" He sounded so innocent that she couldn't help but laugh around her thick throat. She didn't answer, but earning her smile was enough for him.

"I told you I'd try to explain," She sobered somewhat. Merlin nodded and guided her to a bench at one side of the room. He wouldn't let go of her hand even as they sat down. "There's… There's so much," Freya began, wondering how much she should actually divulge to him. "I don't know where to begin." He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"How about last time we met – at the lake, with Excalibur?"

She shook her head. "No. No, it goes back farther than that. Back at the lake, yes, but… the first time. Right after…" She stopped, and this time he put both of his hands over hers. She looked down at them and wondered when they'd lost their smoothness. She swallowed. "After I died," she managed, and Merlin only watched her. "But you see, Merlin, I didn't really die. Well, I did, but I… I didn't." She shot a glance up at him, and though he looked perfectly confused, he only watched her, rapt at attention. "Something saved me, there at the last moment, whether anyone meant it to or not."

"What saved you?" His voice was barely a whisper. She looked up at him, her eyes full of meaning.

"_Magic_."

Before realization could dawn in Merlin's eyes, Lord Valas opened the door.

"Lord Emrys, have you – Ah, Freya!" Merlin and Freya had leaped apart the moment the door unlatched, and looked extremely guilty as they sat next to each other. Valas had either somehow managed not to notice, or didn't let it show on his face. "I've been looking for you," He smiled. Freya didn't. "You should tell me before you go running off like that. I trust you had a good evening?"

"Yes, Father," Merlin frowned. Demureness didn't suit Freya. Feeling what was a perhaps unmerited surge of protectiveness, Merlin gave Freya back his hand and helped her from her seat in a gentlemanly way. However, the care he took, the ease with which she stood by him held a familiar quality that belied their affection. This, Valas did not fail to notice. He said nothing, but eyed their locked hands with an unreadable expression. Once he looked back up, he acted as though he hadn't, and smiled.

"Lord Emrys," He bowed the tiniest amount, and Merlin nodded respectfully, "I was glad to see you at the feast this evening, and might I say, I look forward to seeking your company and counsel in the coming days. It has been some time since I've conversed with a sorcerer of your caliber, you understand."

Merlin _did_ understand. What he _didn't _understand was the strange, icy feeling that was creeping up through his gut as he gauged the air between Freya and Valas. On their own, both seemed like perfectly nice, amiable people, but together… Merlin was reminded of an experiment he'd made with magnets; two opposing poles repelling against each other. He wanted to ask Freya about it, but couldn't.

"I'm flattered," Merlin always opted for the humble road. "I look forward to it as well."

"As does my daughter, apparently," Valas laughed and despite her obvious discomfort, Freya had the modesty to blush. For whatever reason, the sight of it made Merlin flush similarly. "However, it is growing late and I, for one, and still tired from the road, as I'm sure dear Freya is. Come, my dear, I believe your maids are looking for you."

"Of course, father," Freya said, but her hand didn't loosen from Merlin's.

"I would be happy to escort the Lady Freya back to her suites," Merlin offered.

"That won't be necessary," Valas assured him. "After all that feasting and dancing, I'm sure you're tired too, Your Grace. A good night to you. Come, Freya."

Reluctantly, she let go of Merlin's hand and went to stand by Valas. "Good night, Mer-" She blushed and caught herself. "Lord Emrys." Between her formality and the positively stony look on her face as she maintained a safe distance from Valas, Merlin wanted to frown at her, but found himself smiling instead.

"Please, call me Merlin. Goodnight, Lady Freya, Lord Valas."

Both of them maintained the happy faces until they locked eyes just as the door swung shut. Merlin wasn't sure what her eyes had said, but it looked dark; dark and pleading.

Freya was right. She _did _need to explain.

Reluctant to let the thought of her go, Merlin turned and climbed the stairs to his chambers. Perhaps a good sleep _would_ do him some good.

* * *

><p>Arthur sighed.<p>

When he'd made Merlin Court Sorcerer, he'd done so in the assumption that Merlin would remain the same friendly, big-mouthed, out-and-about, smile-faced lunatic that all of Camelot had come to know and love. For the first year or so, his assumption had held true. But then, this was Merlin's _second_ year as Court Sorcerer, and apparently, he'd caved to the inexplicable craving for a hermitage in his tower. Or the library. Or Gaius' chambers. Or the forest. Or wherever else that damned warlock bloody well pleased. Rounding a corner, Arthur only just missed colliding with his wife.

"Have _you_ seen Merlin?" He asked. The envoy from Drailynn had arrived two days ago, and Arthur hadn't seen his friend since.

"No, I haven't," Gwen said, and Arthur squinted at her. Gwen was a _terrible_ liar. He'd misjudged Merlin's fibbing ability for years, but Guinevere was truly, certifiably rubbish at it.

"Oh really?" Arthur crossed his arms, and Gwen bit her lip, realizing he was in a mood. "Because something tells me that you _have_."

She didn't deny it.

"Where is he, Gwen?" Arthur tried to soften his voice. She sighed and slumped.

"Oh, Arthur, please don't pester him,"

"Where is he?"

"-He's been having a really tough week. Leave him be, for now."

"I haven't even _seen _him for two days, I think I have a reason to go looking. And what do you mean, a tough week?"

"Oh, you know," Gwen twiddled with her fingers, "You know, the Drailynian embassy, and all. He's the _Court Sorcerer_. It's a big deal for him. Lots of pressure."

"Funny, he was bouncing out of his boots with glee before they got her. But then they show up, and as soon as he sees that _Freya_character, he-" And all at once, Arthur stopped talking and his face cleared. He took in Gwen's guilty look and looked slightly horrified. "Oh, no, Merlin's not.."

"What?"

"He's gone and tried to _woo_ her, hasn't he? And it's gone all wrong, and now he's moping."

"_Arthur!_" Gwen swatted him.

"He _is_moping, isn't he?"

"No!" Gwen insisted, and grew serious. "I _do_ think he likes her, though." She eyed Arthur in a way that told him not to make light of it. He took the hint. It wasn't a lie, what she'd said. Although, Gwen didn't just think it, she knew it. Arthur didn't. He hrumphed ambiguously.

"Well, it's about time he found someone, anyway. Just didn't think he'd become a hermit because of it." Dismissing the whole matter as frivolous and temporary, Arthur drew himself up and walked away. Gwen sighed once he'd left, wishing it were all that simple, because in actuality, it was anything but. And still, Gwen didn't understand the half of it.

Then and there, she decided that it would be her new mission to figure it all out, for everyone's sake, for Merlin _and_ Arthur.

Her first opportunity came, as if on cue, just a day later, when Freya had stumbled into a room looking rather lost.

"Lady Freya?"

"Ah, Your Majesties!" Freya looked somewhat bewildered when she saw Arthur and Gwen casually chatting with a man in knights' uniform. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," Gwen smiled, and put the other woman immediately at ease. "Please, come in. Lady Freya, this is Sir Gwaine, whom I was just speaking with about you and your father's arrival." Gwaine, predictably, put on his most winning smile and kissed Freya's hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Sir Gwaine," She smiled.

"Believe me, the pleasure is all mine," He said. Freya smiled back politely. Gwen had to bite back her smile and turn her eyes to the ground to avoid looking at Gwaine. _Merlin would have you into a toad where you stand, Gwaine you utter flirt._

"Were you looking for something, Milady?" Arthur asked, having noticed Freya's furtive looks earlier.

"Oh, uhm, yes. I mean, well, sort of," The king thought Freya extremely unassertive for nobility. "I'd heard that Camelot had beautiful gardens in the courtyard. I was looking to see them, it's so lovely out today."

"Oh," Gwen said pleasantly, "Of course. I'd be happy to lead you down there."

"Would you?" Freya seemed genuinely pleased at the prospect, and Gwen nodded.

"Gladly. Arthur, Gwaine," They both curtsied and took their leave. Gwen had to fight back a glare as Gwaine waggled his eyebrows not-so-subtly at Freya. Freya pretended not to notice.

Once they reached the gardens, Freya breathed in deeply and smiled.

"You like gardens?" Gwen asked. Seeing others so happy made her happy.

"Yes, the outdoors in general," Freya laughed. "Especially right after a rain." Gwen agreed, and they fell into a comfortable silence as they walked, listening to the birds chirp amid the bushes of flowers and ivy.

"How do you keep so many blooms? Even in spring, it is astounding."

"Aha, that falls at the feet of Lord Emrys, in fact," Gwen had used the title as an experiment. A moment later, it paid off.

"Merlin?" Freya sounded surprised. _So she _does_ know him. Why else would she call him by anything but Emrys?_

Gwen disregarded the use of Merlin's first name and nodded proudly. "Indeed. Ever since the ban was lifted, he's taken a particular joy in covering the castle in flowers whenever he gets the chance." She glanced at Freya and recognized her expression as one of her own; one that she wore when she thought of Arthur.

"I see," Freya said, smiling at the colors around her. After a moment, Gwen said,

"You know him, don't you?"

Freya blinked in surprise. "Well, I… I met him a few days ago, yes."

"No, before. You two have met before, haven't you?" Gwen was calm. Freya didn't speak for a moment.

"Did he tell you?" She asked carefully. Gwen answered in kind.

"I don't know much. Well, I don't know much anything at all. But I know enough to understand why he's so shocked to see you." The two women turned to face each other, each with differing levels of anxiety evident in their faces. "I don't know _how_ you're here, and I don't know how he's going to take it all, but, for what it's worth…" Gwen bit her lip before saying sincerely, "I _am_ glad you're here – however you are. Lord knows he need someone like you."

Freya looked genuinely surprised by the comment. She blinked "Then… Then you… You know? About-"

"As I said, I don't know much at all," Gwen told her, "but I do know that you shouldn't be able to be… here." She wondered if it sounded as strange to Freya as it did to her. She smiled regardless. "Frankly, I don't know whether this will all end up good or bad in the end, but for whatever reason… I think it'll be good." She confessed. Hopeful as always, Gwen thought that, despite any odd or unconventional or even suspicious circumstances, it would all turn out for better. _Merlin's_ better, to be specific. She grinned wider over at Freya. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

It took several minutes for Freya to digest what she'd been told, but when she did, she smiled and, taking some initiative, wove her arm through the queen's as a close friend might do.

"Your Majesty, if it's not at all rude or forward, I…"

"Yes?"

"I think I'd like it if I could be your friend."

Gwen smiled. "I'd like nothing more, Lady Freya."

"Please," Freya said, looking and sounding nothing like a noble-bred lady, "It's just Freya."

Gwen thought she was beginning to understand why Merlin liked Freya so much. "Of course, _just_ Freya it is, then." And for reasons that had nothing to do with her new 'mission', something told Gwen that she'd just embarked on the beginnings of what just might be a very lovely friendship.

* * *

><p>AN: I feel as though most of this chapter was complete and utter filler. I'm sorry, y'all. I'm trying to sort out the pacing of this whole thing. I know what I want to happen, but I'm just not sure _how soon_ I want it to happen, and if I want anything _else _to happen first. Make any sense? Maybe? Yes? No? Oh well. Thanks for reading! Drop a review if you enjoyed it, or even if you didn't.


	6. Bruises

The following evening, Freya snuck back to Merlin's tower just after dinner. _He needs to know, and he needs to know soon_, her mind had whispered to her all day, _before it's too late_. But she tried not to linger on the last thought. She glanced over her shoulder, then reached for the dragon-faced doorknocker on Merlin's tower door. She lifted it, then,

"I thought you might."

She gasped and whirled around. The doorknocker thudded against its rest, but the sound seemed quiet next to her pounding heart. She flushed in fear and something deep in her gut screamed at her, _run_.

For a while, Valas only glared. Freya's mind was reeling. _No! He can't find me! How does he always find me? How __**dare**__ he? How can_-

"I would not keep at this, if I were you." His hand was bruising steel on her arm, and he didn't blink when she pulled away from him and punched his chest. His voice grew low and sinister. "You know it's useless."

She punched him again.

"Come along then, _daughter_," He may have looked old, but Valas had the strength of a knight in his prime, and Freya's shoes slipped against the stone floors as she tried resist.

"Let go of me!"

"Don't make a scene," He hissed at her, pulling and flinging her forward down a hallway. Before she could make a run for it, he caught up and cornered her into the set of rooms that had been allotted to them. Just as he closed the door,

"You can't do this to me!" She growled, hair tangling about her mouth.

"I believe I am. So I can. And I _must_, by the looks of it. Why must you be so difficult?"

"I just wanted to see _Merlin_," she began,

"_Merlin? _Do you, could you mean _Emrys?" _His voice was like a whip. She tried not to look at him. He stepped right into her face, and she still didn't look. He could see her jaw muscles tighten. "You may be tempted to think that you have a choice now that you're out of that puddle, out of that _curse_, but do try and remember why you're here. You have a job to do,"

"I won't."

"I daresay you will. Are you forgetting who, exactly, it is that holds your hell at bay?"

She didn't look up at him when she spat, "You can't kill me, you _need _me."

His reply was instant: "Your mistake is thinking that I have to kill to give you hell."

"You're going to give me hell later anyway – why should I care?"

"Correction: _you're_going to give you hell later. I only have to make sure that you actually follow through with it."

"I _won't_."

"Oh, you _will_. I'll make sure of it. And when the deed is done, you'll thank me."

Then, she did look up at him. She spat in his face.

His rage was inhuman, but not alien to her. She knew what came next, but it didn't fight the satisfaction out of her eyes.

"_Witch,_" He rounded on her, and raised his arm.

* * *

><p>She'd tried to cover it up, but Gwen, she'd learned quickly, was sharp-eyed as well as sharp-minded.<p>

"Freya! What on earth happened?" Gwen had invited the younger lady over for breakfast, but looked completely unconcerned with eating when Freya arrived at the terrace where they'd planned to meet.

"Oh, it's nothing," Freya smiled sweetly and touched her bruised cheekbone absently. "It's terribly embarrassing, but, last night as I was walking back to my rooms, well, I…" She willed to blush, and hoped it worked. "I found out that it is, in fact, possible to fall _up _a flight of stairs."

Gwen let out a small noise between humor and pity, and reached over to inspect the swollen, purplish bruise sporting on the side of Freya's face.

"It must hurt," Freya smiled, trying not to show that it really, really did. "You should see Gaius about it later."

"Gaius?"

"Oh, you've not been introduced? I thought that with you and Merlin being, well…" Gwen paused and cleared her throat, "That is, I thought you'd have been introduced by now. He's the Court Physician here. He'll have the bruise gone in no time."

"Oh. Well, I might go and meet him, then. First, though, I think that egg sandwich is calling to me. Do you have coffee?"

Gwen smiled and they continued on with breakfast. Still, a haunting suspicious hid in the back of her mind. Something, she thought, wasn't quite right, even by Freya's strange standards.

* * *

><p>Thankfully, no one dared to stare at a lady, no matter what shades of purple and yellow adorned her face. Finding Gaius' rooms was simple enough, after asking a few guards for directions. Freya knocked and, finding the door open, cautiously stepped into the room.<p>

"Hello? I was told I could find the Court Physician here," She looked around the door, "I was told his name was," she froze when she looked into the room proper. "_Merlin!_"

Physician and Sorcerer looked up. "Freya!"

Gaius looked between the two. "Wrong on both counts. It's Gaius, actually. Nice to finally meet you. Lady Freya, I suppose?" She nodded at him. He smiled kindly and went to greet her. When he got close enough to see her face clearly, he frowned. "Oh dear, what's this?"

She did blush, then, mostly because Merlin was in the room and was looking at her with an increasing potential for mother hennishness. "I'm afraid I had a run in with a flight of stairs," She said, and smiled. "Quite literally."

"Oh, dear," Gaius's hands were gentle as he probed the injury. "Let's see if we can't take care of that. Do, come in, milady." As Gaius retreated toward the back of the room, Merlin came up and looked alarmed when he saw the extent of the bruise.

"For the love of – Freya," He put a hand to her face, and she pretended it didn't affect her the way it did, "What on earth-"

"You do have quite hard stairs in Camelot." She made light of it, but behind her smile something in her shrank. _With quite hard hands and quite hot tempers_. Merlin wasn't smiling as he ran a finger down her swollen cheekbone. A small cut shone at the corner.

"Well," Gaius returned with a sigh, "It seems as though I'm out of the usual balm I use for bruises. You can thank Percival's rather vigorous jousting for that. But, uh, Merlin, I just had a thought." The pair turned to him.

"What?"

"Why don't you try to heal it? With magic?"

Merlin blinked. Oh, of course. He turned to her with a kind of surprised, 'aha' look on his face that made her want to giggle. Even after a year or more, Merlin still seemed slow to recognize that yes, he was a sorcerer and, yes, he could use his powers for things like _bruises_.

"Right." He said, and blinked again. "Uhm, then, eh…" He looked to Freya for leave, and shrugged. "Shall I?"

"Please," She smiled at him, and he had to look elsewhere. Carefully, he positioned his hand alongside her face. She closed her eyes, and he screwed up his brow in concentration to find the right words.

_"__Ágíeme __anwlæta éaðnes ádl,"_

She opened her eyes just enough to watch his turn gold, and then a tingling sensation overcame her face. The pain disappeared and her immediate reaction was to feel the place where the bruise had been. She frowned when she felt the flesh was still swollen.

"It'll take a while to fade," Merlin explained. "Bruises are basically broken blood vessels, bleeding inside flesh tissue. With the spell, I've healed the vessels, but there's still some blood leftover." She wasn't sure if he wanted to sound smart, or if he was rambling. Either way, she didn't mind it. He ran a finger over the bruise as though to indicate, and she found it odd that she could hardly feel it, as though her cheek had gone numb. "It'll be gone by tomorrow." He smiled at her. She smiled back.

"Thank you, Merlin," She said, and subconsciously reached out to grab his hand in gratitude. He seemed to feeze, and looked down at their hands with an unreadable expression. After a moment, he squeezed her hand and smiled back at her. Freya's mind was catapulted years into the past, to the first time she'd seen him smile. For whatever reason, she found she couldn't look away.

Gaius watched them from over his shoulder and smiled sadly. Freya couldn't have known it, but Merlin was only at Gaius' chambers so he could consult Gaius on the very matter of Freya herself. For such a powerful, wise warlock, Merlin was confused like a hurt schoolboy over her. Gaius, always the father figure, offered him advice and comfort.

Although uneasy with the exact circumstances behind her presence, Gaius couldn't help but feel pleased with Freya's appearance in Camelot. He knew that Merlin believed everyone to be grossly ignorant of their Court Sorcerer's loneliness, but Gaius was like Merlin's father. He'd known about it for a while, but had never wanted to hurt his former ward further by bringing it up. Merlin needed someone, and now he'd rediscovered the only someone he'd ever wanted to have. Gaius was happy for him. He only hoped that it would all last.

"Make sure you clean up after yourself, and give the Lady Freya some cream for the swelling. I need to go see about some ingredients for more bruise poultice," Gaius told Merlin. Of course, both men knew that Gaius was really leaving to give the young couple privacy, but neither felt bothered by the fact that they could pretend they didn't.

When he was gone, Freya asked, "Does it feel strange?"

"What?"

"Your magic – does it feel strange? When you cast a spell?"

Merlin hadn't ever thought of it. "Not really," he told her. "It feels…" He frowned, then settled on a word. "Warm."

"Warm?"

"Yes, warm. Like a fresh apple pie, or the sun on your back, or holding hands with-" He stopped himself awkwardly and looked down at their own intertwined hands.

"It sounds nice," She said, running a thumb over his knuckles.

"It is, very." He looked back up and tried to swallow and smile at the same time. He let go of her hands and moved to hold her forearms tenderly over his.

Unexpectedly, Freya winced, and the mood shifted considerably in an instant.

"What?" He frowned, and looked down at the arm he held. He recoiled at what he saw. "Freya!" He took her left forearm into both hands, "W-what happened?" His initial thought was how very _hand_ like the bruise was, how it wound all the way around Freya's arm. Something in him began boiling.

"Nothing," She snapped a bit too quickly, and he looked up at her. "Th-that is, the stairs when I fell… I hit my arm too."

"The stairs did this?"

"Yes."

"They wound all the way around your arm?"

Their eyes met, and they both knew it was a lie. She cracked.

"_No_," She breathed. She grabbed his hands back. "No, Merlin, it… It's about what I was trying to tell you that night, after the dance,"

"Who did this, Freya?"

"I was trying to tell you how I was here, and I couldn't, but the magic, like I was trying to say,"

He watched her carefully as she tried to say a thousand different things at once, but his mind just asked, _who?_

"At the lake, that day, when I was dying, you said you could save me… Then I… But now, Camelot, Valas, he-"

"_Valas_? Valas did this to you?"

"No! I mean, well, yes," He tensed, "but _no_, oh, Merlin, it's just… Valas is-"

"Gaius?" It was an elderly gentleman knocking at the door. "I've come for me medicine, for me ears," The way he shouted, he probably did need an ear remedy.

"Damnit," Merlin hissed at the door. Freya quieted and looked down.

"Of course," She whispered. "Take care of the man, Merlin. I will talk with you later." Merlin couldn't object as she walked away, but he couldn't hold back his angry sigh, either. Freya was in trouble, and he had to play pharmacist. They'd talk, Freya had said. But with all the interruption and confusion, Merlin began to wonder if they ever would.

"_Please _be careful," He told her just before he let her hand go, and the way she didn't look back at him frightened him in a way he wouldn't admit. The cloud that had settled on his mind the past weeks darkened with thunder. He felt as though he was stuck on the tip of an iceberg, with untold monsters and icy cold depths waiting for him below. If he were to fall in, he wasn't sure if even magic would keep him warm. But then, he didn't feel like he had much of a choice.

Feeling each second tick by, Merlin went to attend Gaius' patient. The worried crease in his brow didn't go away. 

* * *

><p>AN: You know, for knowing exactly what is going to happen, I really have no clue what is going to happen. That is, I really need to become more organized when writing up plot outlines so I know what will go in what chapter. I feel as though my pacing is all over the place. Please tell me if its unbearable.


	7. Lie to Me

After years serving a reputation as Camelot's resident hothead and arrogant prat, Arthur prided himself on the fact that he'd grown quite level-headed and patient within his role as king. He could gauge his emotions and keep them in check, and outbursts of anger were few and far between in comparison to the hot-tempered days of his youth. There was, however, one thing that could still manage to cut his fuse to the quick every time.

Secrets.

It was more than a pet peeve. Arthur had been served nothing but secrets and lies from the moment he was born, and for twenty some-odd years, he'd believed them. It seemed like everyone close to him had lied at some point or other – his father, his uncle, his advisors, his best friend, even his wife. True, he'd forgiven most of them for their wrongs and in the case of his friend and his wife, had grown even closer despite it all. Still, anytime the faintest hints of secrecy from his family brushed past him, it felt like vinegar poured over an open wound. It stung. It made him hurt. And it made him _mad._

He actually couldn't remember the last time he'd been genuinely mad with Merlin. When he tried, all he could think of was that moment when he'd found out about the magic, but somehow, this time seemed worse, because by now they were supposed to trust each other. They'd made a pact back then; when the moment of trust finally came, they'd come together and made a pact that there would be no more secrets between them, not ever. Arthur had no intentions of ever breaking that pact. He didn't think that Merlin had, either. Until now.

"Guinevere, we need to talk." He said, and Gwen froze in the doorway. She turned to look at him, her face showing confusion at his solemn tone.

"What about?" She watched as he stood from his seat.

"Merlin." He said, and silence followed. He breathed deeply before he spoke, so he wouldn't yell like he was tempted to. "Guinevere, he's been acting strange ever since the Drailynnian envoy – ever since that _Lady Freya _arrived. He won't talk to me. He doesn't smile. Something's wrong with him, and I want to know what."

She blinked rapidly, and then began to say, "Arthur, I'm sure he's just-"

"Yes, I know," Arthur forestalled her, "he's a moody sorcerer that has excuses for everything; like you, apparently. But please, Gwen, leave the lying to Merlin. He's the expert." He felt a simultaneous rush of shame and fulfillment as the words left his mouth, and Gwen looked like she'd been slapped. She didn't say anything, so Arthur added, a bit more heatedly, "I'm tired of it, Gwen. I'm tired of being lied to, especially by you."

They looked at each other, old wounds barely hiding behind their eyes, years of new reconciliation looking strangely thin over scars that itched. Gwen looked down and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," She said. He knew it wasn't a lie, so he let her continue, "I know he's acting off. And… And I do know why. Well, at least partially why."

The shame Arthur had felt a moment ago grew at her apology, and he softened somewhat. "And why is that?"

Gwen looked like she was wrestling with something in her mind. Eventually, she looked up at her husband and shrugged. "I would tell you, Arthur, I really would, but this isn't my story to tell, even if I knew every detail. You'll have to ask Merlin about it." She nodded slightly and added, "Merlin and Freya."

Arthur's eyebrows twitched downward in a moment of surprise. Merlin _and _Freya. _And_. They were both involved – but how could they be? They'd only met a few days ago. What could Gwen be referring to that involved both his Court Sorcerer and the daughter of his guest of honor?

"Freya?" His voice must've been as surprised as his thoughts, but Gwen seemed to expect it.

"Yes," She said simply. "That's all I can say. As I said, it's not my story to tell."

Without another word, Arthur brushed past her and set his sights for Merlin's tower. Before he could leave, Gwen called back to him, "Arthur," and he only stopped for the tone in her voice – _that _tone, the tone that reminded him of the soft heart that he had married, the one he loved through it all.

"I _am_ sorry, Arthur."

He couldn't say that it was nothing, and they both knew it, so he merely nodded, looked her in the eye, and left.

* * *

><p>He found Merlin in his tower, as expected, but unexpectedly, he wasn't working. He wasn't even reading, or sleeping, or experimenting as he tended to, but was buried in a lounge chair fiddling with a <em>strawberry<em> of all things. He closed his hand around it when he saw Arthur approach, and Arthur pretended not to notice when it never reappeared.

"Sire?" Merlin sounded confused as he watched Arthur cross the room, "I didn't hear you knock."

"That's because I didn't. Merlin, we need to talk."

Arthur didn't sit, and Merlin peered up at him with the calculating gaze of Emrys, one that would have sent most people fidgeting. Not Arthur. Perhaps for the king's immunity, Merlin couldn't read him. "What about?" he asked uncertainly.

"The Drailynnian envoy," Arthur said, "you've been acting like a depressed moron ever since they arrived, and I want to know the bloody hell why." He took a few deep breaths and let Merlin watch him wide-eyed. "So, what's wrong with you?"

Merlin didn't answer, and the king and the warlock simply stared for a few moments. Arthur's dwindling patience snapped and he continued, "Guinevere says that she knows, but she won't tell me." He couldn't tell if Merlin was surprised or relieved. "She said it has something to do with Lady Freya. Is that true?"

Then, Merlin's face fell, and Arthur knew he'd hit it right. "Arthur..."

"_Does _it have to do with Freya?"

This time, Merlin didn't look up at him. "Yes."

"What about her? What could have possibly happened with her that's gotten you wrapped up in a hermitage all this time?"

Merlin closed his eyes tight and sighed, and Arthur got the impression what he was about to say hurt him. He was hoping it was because Merlin was about to admit the truth, but when the man began to speak, Arthur realized right away that it wasn't. "Arthur, it's… complicated. I can't… I mean, you'd-"

"_No._" Arthur snapped, pointing a finger in Merlin's face. The warlock seemed to be genuinely taken off guard, and could only watch as Arthur's anger broke to the surface. "No, you shut up. Don't you _dare_ say it's something I wouldn't understand. Don't you _dare _say you can't tell me, Merlin, because you _promised._"

Both of them remembered that promise, and Merlin couldn't reply.

"You _promised_. And I don't bloody well _care_ what stupid excuse you want to give me this time, I won't have it anymore. I know you feel like you have to live half your life where no one can see, that you think if you lie about every other thing that happens to you you can keep us all from being hurt, but you're _wrong, _Merlin, and I am sick of it, because it does hurt, every time, and you don't know it."

Merlin was only watching. He was listening. And still, he didn't say anything. Somehow, this knowledge alone made the rest of Arthur's vulnerable tirade spill out.

"I _know_ I won't understand all the time – hell, I probably won't understand half the time. I may call you an idiot, but it's not really true, is it? _I'm_ the idiot here, and we both know it. I _know_ that I don't understand everything about magic, or sorcery, or all that's happened because of what my father did, and I know I never will. I _know _that I hardly understand _you_, much less all that's happened to you. I _know_ that you don't want to tell me about… about whatever the hell it is we're even talking about right now, but damnit Merlin, you _promised. _You promised we'd never keep secrets again, not about the things that mattered. This _matters,_ Merlin. And don't you _dare _say that it doesn't."

Merlin looked away, and Arthur suddenly noticed how tired he looked.

"I want to help, Merlin. Please."

They looked each other in the eye, and seemed to remember the full reach of their friendship. _No secrets_. Merlin sighed. When he spoke, his voice sounded old. Weary.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I shouldn't have kept it from you all this time. Force of habit, I suppose."

The transparency of it all, the sudden defeat and apology of his voice made Arthur slump. _That's it_? He almost wanted to say. He didn't. Instead, he swallowed his still-buzzing anger and forced out a tentative question that he'd asked Merlin a thousand and one times since they'd made that promise years ago. "Will you tell me?"

Merlin sat up and looked thoughtful before he took a deep breath and said, "It wasn't the first time we'd met, at the gates, Freya and I. We've met before, many years ago."

Arthur wasn't sure what to think. "Where?"

"Here. In Camelot."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he didn't say anything at first, but when it became clear that Merlin wasn't going to elaborate, asked, "What happened then?"

Merlin chewed at his lip, and looked over at Arthur with a haunted expression. _No secrets_, the words ran across his face, and he sighed. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he gestured to the couch by his chair. "Sit down, Arthur. You'll definitely want to sit down for this."

At that, as Arthur had learned after dozens of these truth-telling encounters, meant that he probably wasn't going to like what Merlin had to say.

* * *

><p>Neither of them realized it was dark until after Merlin had finished talking. After wiping at his eyes where Arthur wouldn't see, Merlin waved his hand to light some candles. Warm shadows flickered on Arthur's face for several moments until he finally said,<p>

"I'm sorry." He only hoped it sounded as deeply felt as the dagger that Merlin's story had planted in his chest. _I'm the one who planted it,_ he told himself. It twisted in further.

"I've told you, I forgave you years ago, Arthur." And for whatever sick reason, Merlin had the gall to mean it. Arthur shook his head.

"Merlin, what I said to you that day, what I did, what I – oh _god_…" Arthur sunk his head into his hands.

"Don't," Merlin told him, but Arthur didn't want to listen.

"Oh gods, I can't believe… If I had only known… Oh, gods I'm so sorry, Merlin…"

Unexpectedly, a book collided with his head. He sat up and stared.

"I said _stop it,_ you prat. You couldn't have known, you didn't know. You acted within the best of your knowledge. You didn't intend it, and contrary to what your wallowing might imply, nothing you say can change that." He held Arthur's gaze for a moment before adding, "And besides all that, I told you, I forgave you years ago. So just… _don't._" But despite it all, Merlin still looked hurt when he talked about it, and Arthur couldn't obey completely. He still tried.

They listened to the candles burn for a while. Merlin had been talking for what could have been hours, and Arthur wasn't sure what to say for a long time.

"So… but… she really did _die,_ though?" It seemed like such a stupid thing to ask, all things considered. Somehow, Merlin chuckled at the question.

"You can imagine why I was so shocked to see her."

"She didn't seem to be as surprised."

Merlin frowned as though he hadn't thought of it. "No…"

"But… How is she here, then?"

"Exactly my problem."

"Is it… Could it be magic?" Arthur thought it was the obvious solution, considering Merlin's background.

"That's what she said it was, although…"

"You've spoken to her about it?"

"Not exactly," Merlin seemed frustrated at the thought. "She's tried to explain, said she would, but every time we're interrupted. Mostly by Valas." He spat the name, and Arthur was vaguely surprised.

"What's with that tone? I thought you'd get on well with him, another sorcerer. Seems nice enough."

Merlin clenched his fist and explained, "Yesterday, Freya came to Gaius' chambers with a bruised cheek. She swore she'd gotten from falling on some stairs. I believed her, and treated it. Later, I found another bruise on her arm." His knuckles were white, but Arthur didn't think that Merlin realized it. "It was _hand_-shaped, Arthur. She denied it at first, but eventually I got her to admit that someone had hit her. She said it was _him_."

"Who, Valas?" Arthur's voice cracked in his surprise. Merlin nodded. Arthur sat back in shock. He'd been sure that, of all people, the old man was utterly harmless, sorcerer or not. "But why would he hurt his own _daughter_?"

Merlin was shaking his head before Arthur finished. "He's not Freya's father – her family is all dead. I don't know why he's claiming to be her father, and I don't know why she's playing along, but I do know that he's hurt her, and I don't trust him."

"Well…" Arthur tried to think of anything to contradict what Merlin was telling him. "He could just have… Adopted her, or helped her in some way after… after she somehow came back. I mean, he's a magic user, and so is she, right? Like a mentor or something… Maybe he gave her refuge in Drailynn?"

"Where is Drailynn, by the way?" Merlin asked, "Anywhere on our maps?"

Arthur blinked. "Well, no, it's too far west to be on our maps."

"Then how do you know where it is?"

"I was given maps."

"By whom?"

"Well, Lord Va-" Arthur's expression suddenly morphed into sudden suspicion. "Lord Valas." He said. Merlin nodded.

"Thought so."

"You… You're not saying that you think that Valas _made up an entire country_, are you, Merlin?"

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know what I think, Arthur."

"…Who d'you suppose he is? Really?"

"I don't know," Merlin insisted again. "But I _do_ know that he has hurt Freya, and I don't trust him." He grit his teeth and added, with a protective bite that sounded foreign in Merlin's mouth. "And I will do anything in my power to keep her away from him."

Arthur stared at his friend with something of revelation, and sympathy.

"You _do_ love her, don't you." It felt strange to say, since by all rights Freya should be dead and Merlin shouldn't even know her, and before that day Arthur had never known that Merlin had ever loved any woman, but somehow, Arthur didn't feel any awkwardness or shame in it.

Merlin looked down at his hands in his lap, and through the candle light, Arthur thought he could see Merlin fiddling with that errant strawberry again.

"Yes," he said quietly.

Arthur nodded. Eventually, when he began to lose Merlin to his thoughts once more, he rose and crossed over to put a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Thank you for telling me, Merlin." He said. He was halfway to the stairs when Merlin called back,

"Thanks for listening, Arthur."

The king paused and nodded. _I'm sorry, Merlin. I can't imagine what you've been through, Merlin. Don't you worry, Merlin_, he wanted to say all of it, but didn't. _I'll keep an eye on Valas. We'll figure all this out. Even an idiot like me isn't completely useless_. But he didn't know what he could say, so he simply nodded, and turned to leave.

In the back of his mind, he had a vague idea of what he needed to do next, and he knew it was going to be one of the most awkward, guilt-ridden conversations of his life.

After all, how, exactly, was a king supposed to ask a dead druid girl, the love of his best friend and Court Sorcerer, to forgive him for her murder?


	8. Forgiven

**A/N:** I feel as though this chapter is awful. I really didn't do it justice, but I'm not sure how to fix it. I wrote it mostly to take a break from schoolwork. Ironically, I just finished writing a ten page research paper on Merlin from the original Arthurian myths.

I hope y'all enjoy despite its haphazard mediocrity.

* * *

><p>It'd taken several days for Arthur to muster up his courage. In that time, he'd informed Merlin of his intentions, and although he'd seemed initially surprised, the other man had quickly agreed to help follow through with Arthur's plan. It would be good for all of them.<p>

The king and the warlock had done a good deal of talking the past few days. It was as if both of them felt the need to make up for weeks of silence in the space of a few days. Their conversations ranged from the serious to the ridiculous, and while little if any of what they said ever touched on the subject of Freya, both of them sensed that a new layer was being applied to their relationship because of her presence; a layer of understanding that hadn't existed before, one that affected Arthur especially.

He hadn't realized what a small, inhuman kind of box he'd put Merlin into inside his own head until he heard him talk about Freya. Of course, Arthur's understanding of Merlin had undergone a complete overhaul several years ago when he'd revealed himself as Emrys, but even after that, Arthur had subconsciously put restraints on his character, restraints that had never and could never actually exist. He'd assumed, by some strange rationale, that Merlin was and would forever be a bachelor. More than that, he assumed Merlin preferred it that way. Nothing in past experience told Arthur that Merlin had any romantic inclination or competency, so he'd brushed the idea aside and assumed that, if anything, Merlin would marry himself to his work and his magic, and leave romance on the wayside.

Never in a million years would he have predicted the truth.

The idea that Merlin might eventually find a nice girl and settle down had, in fact, crossed Arthur's mind once, perhaps twice. And while he didn't think the possibility very likely, he hadn't thought it utterly absurd, either. Secretly, Arthur kept his eyes open to see if Merlin might enter into a low-key relationship with one of the kind maids from the town, or even one of the trainee magicians who came to Camelot for refuge. In so doing, he'd entirely missed the fact that part of Merlin, deep behind the mask that he'd built over the years, still pined for a lost love that Arthur had never known about until now.

The way he talked about Freya, the way he cared for her, it was so very _Merlin_ and yet so foreign to Arthur. It was real, and kind, and _human_. Arthur hadn't realized before that, for some reason, his subconscious had decided that warlocks couldn't be entirely human, and he half expected Merlin to be something other than what Arthur was. Their conversation over Freya had made the king realize that Merlin was just like him, in many ways. He was a human, a man, with feelings, and hopes, and secrets. Sometimes, Arthur forgot.

It took surprisingly little time for Arthur to accept the reality of Freya – or rather, Freya _and Merlin_. It changed everything, but at the same time, it didn't. After all the life-altering secrets he'd garnered from his longtime friend over the past years, Arthur honestly didn't think he would be surprised at anything anymore. Still, this secret was different, because the story wasn't finished yet.

_I've got hand it to you,_ _Merlin, _Arthur thought as he walked the halls with his Court Sorcerer,_ you do know how to pick them. Undead, cursed, captured by a mystery man, made into a princess, and a druid-turned bastet to boot. Only __**you**__ would find a girl like that and love her._ Arthur had always thought Merlin was able to see past appearances to the real value of a person. In Freya, Arthur's suspicions were confirmed.

"You ready?" Merlin asked from his side, and Arthur was thrown from his thoughts into the walkway just outside of the courtyard. Inexplicably, his throat was dry. Oh, yes, he'd almost forgotten why they'd come here.

"Mmm," He managed, swallowing. He felt Merlin's concern, but neither of them could look at each other.

"Send Gwen back to these steps – I'll be waiting." It was Merlin's cue for him to get on with it. He tried.

They'd been counting on the fact that, in time she'd been in Camelot, Freya spent nearly every other day with Gwen strolling through the gardens. It was a deserted place, save for the queen and her guest, and since Valas held the queen in no suspicion, it was the perfect time to intercept Freya without risk of interruption.

Arthur could hear his wife laughing nearby, and while the sound usually lifted his spirits, he swallowed again and wondered if his profuse sweating was as noticeable as he felt it was. When he rounded around the rosebush, Gwen was the first to spot him.

"Arthur," she smiled from her seat on the bench, "A pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?"

He fidgeted, and watched as Gwen's smile faded. "Guinevere, Lady Freya." He nodded formally. "I was hoping I might find you here. Gwen, might I speak to the Lady Freya for a moment?"

Both of the ladies were frowning uncertainly, Gwen especially. "Of course." She waited for him to speak. He didn't.

"Alone," He amended. Gwen looked slightly hurt, but rose and walked toward the path. He met her questioning look and leaned over to tell her quietly,

"Merlin is waiting for you by the west entrance, he'll explain. I'm sorry to intrude, Gwen," He said apologetically. She peeked around the bushes and could see Merlin standing on the long veranda by the courtyard, stock straight and imposing in his blue robes. She wondered what solemn errand had Camelot's king and sorcerer so wrought up. She looked back up to Arthur, this question in her eyes. "He'll explain," Arthur repeated, and this time brushed her hand with encouraging affection. Gwen nodded silently, cast a look at Freya, and at Arthur, then left.

Arthur watched her go over to Merlin, saw the warlock put a hand on her shoulder and lead her slowly away to talk and disappear into another part of the courtyard. Still sitting in front of him, Freya shifted in her seat. Arthur wondered why it was so hard to swallow, and turned to her.

"Lady Freya," He tried to smile, but it came out looking wrong. She was watching him, cautiously trying to figure out what he was about.

"My Lord," She said, and this seemed to throw him off guard.

"Uhm, please, my lady, just Arthur will do for now."

"Then you must call me Freya," She said. He looked at her and came closer.

"Of course. La- that is, Freya, I uh… I've come to apologize." He said, and wondered why it wasn't working out the way he'd rehearsed it in front of his mirror that morning.

Freya frowned. "Apologize for what?" Arthur thought it sounded like something Merlin would say. He took a breath, and when he let it out, said,

"Everything." There was a tense pause, and he added, "Merlin told me everything."

Freya's expression didn't change, but all at once her face was white. "Everything," she said.

"Yes," Arthur responded. Then, in a burst, "Well, everything he knows, at least. Which is a lot. But not everything about… now. But about… you know… _Then_. And I… I… When he told me, I just knew I couldn't… That is, I have to…" She was staring at him as he rambled, and he thought he saw something between pity and fear in her eyes. He didn't know what to say, and looked at her in loss.

Although his mind felt blank, she must have seen something in his eyes, because her expression softened fractionally and she moved to one side of the bench. "Perhaps you should sit down, Arthur," She said. He obeyed, and looked resolutely at the pebble path while he collected his thoughts. She waited.

"I killed you." He hadn't expected for his voice to crack. Freya stared unblinkingly at the ground. "And I can't know how it will ever mean anything, but I am sorry. So, _so_ sorry."

"I know how," She whispered at length. He looked at her, and for the first time their eyes met, both deep with painful histories that had run alongside each other for years, but were just now meeting. "I wanted to tell her the same, when she cursed me. If only to make it end. I know what you mean, and I know how it will mean something – it already does."

Arthur was frowning. "How?"

She smiled at him, and again Arthur wondered at her Merlin-ish mannerisms. He realized moments later that it wasn't Merlin that he was seeing – it was a sorrow, deep and bittersweet, that had grown to define Merlin's hidden side just as it filled Freya's eyes just then. When she spoke, he felt like he'd been punched and hugged at the same time.

"Because I already forgave you, years ago."

Arthur blinked. It was one thing for Merlin to have forgiven him. It'd been hard to accept, but somehow, it seemed feasible. With Merlin's irrepressible loyalty, his forgiving heart and good nature, it somehow seemed possible. But _Freya?_ She had no reason to ever forgive him. He _murdered_ her. Shaking his head, he told her as much. She looked at him with that _look_ again, a look that conveyed sorrow and pity and hope all in one in a mixture he knew he could never replicate.

"Arthur Pendragon, the world has not been kind to you in your years," she put her hand to his cheek, and in that moment he believed he was sitting in front of the kindest, wisest creature in the world. She held his eyes for a second more before saying softly, "so let me change that, just once." He could naught but nod in agreement.

She dropped her hand, and continued on, "You did not kill me; you killed the bastet that I had become to protect your people and those you loved. It was an honorable end. I may have died with the beast that night, but it was not by your hand, nor Merlin's, nor anyone else's who was in Camelot. It was the witch who cursed me, if anyone. I know you can't understand, Arthur, but you freed me that night."

The look he shot her asked a dozen questions. She looked down at her lap.

"I've never told Merlin how much it hurt. I didn't want him to worry. But it did hurt, every night. The mornings were worse." She trailed off, then looked up to Arthur. "It may sound morbid to your ears, but I had been waiting for someone to strike out at me for a while. I thought if it were to end quickly, while I wasn't myself, it would be for the better." Her frown slowly turned into a smile, one that lit up her face all the way to the depths of her eyes. "Then I met Merlin. He wasn't scared of me. He didn't care that I was cursed. He made me feel loved. And yet… I knew it couldn't outweigh the power of the curse. I knew I couldn't have a life with him even if I wanted to, even if we _both _wanted to." She paused and seemed to be thinking over something before she turned again to the king and said quietly, "You mustn't ever tell him, Arthur, but those minutes when I was dying, they were the happiest of my life. I was free from my curse, I was home, in the arms of a man I'd grown to love. Merlin can't know that, I fear it'd break his heart. But it is true.

"You may have caused my death, Arthur. You may have hunted me, and with good reason. You may have been the one to strike the blow that killed me. You may have even hated me. But for it all, Arthur, I forgive you. It was never a difficult choice. Merlin made me feel loved. And you, Arthur, though I know it sounds absurd, in those last moments, you made me feel _free_."

It was only at the end of her little speech that Arthur realized that he hadn't said hardly a word. This was supposed to be _his _apology, _his _speech. And yet, here she was, _forgiving him_. _Thanking_ him, even. He couldn't make right or left of it, and it showed in his expression.

"I… I don't… I don't understand. How…"

"In time, Arthur, perhaps in time," She told him patiently, "but not just yet. In the meantime… It's been years, now, and I think it's about time we got around to doing this properly." He wasn't sure what she meant until she turned and offered him her hand.

"My name is Freya."

"Arthur," He'd forgotten his title and shook her hand dumbly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Arthur, at last."

The moment he understood the glint in her eye was the moment when Arthur finally understood forgiveness. He knew she'd meant every word. He smiled.

They might've talked for hours or more, Arthur couldn't tell. Eventually, inevitably, the subject turned around to Merlin. As Freya spoke of him, as she listened to Arthur tell her stories, as she laughed at all the scrapes they'd gotten into together, her face had lit up in a way that Arthur could only ever describe as loving, in the purest, most adorable sense. He secretly thought that Merlin must be the luckiest man in Camelot, and wondered if Gwen ever looked this way when she talked about him.

"He's very proud of you, you know," Freya broke through his thoughts.

"How do you mean?"

"You've grown so much over the years, in so many ways. Merlin is proud of you for it, though he'll never say it."

Arthur turned fully to her. "And how would you know that?"

She chose not to answer, but instead looked pointedly down at Excalibur, which hung at Arthur's side. "Have you enjoyed our gift?"

Arthur looked confused, and looked down at his sword, then back up at Freya. "_Our?_" He asked incredulously, "You and Merlin?"

She shrugged. "Well, mostly Merlin. He had it burnished. I was merely a safekeeper."

"Burnished? But… _you_ kept Excalibur? When? How?" Arthur was curious.

"You mean Merlin never told you? It wasn't always in the stone, you know."

"But… He said it'd been there for centuries."

It was her turn to look surprised and said, to the air, "Merlin, you utter schemer," And then to Arthur, "He really didn't tell you? _He _put it in the stone." She let it sink in. "And before that, I'd been looking after it."

Arthur shook his head. He should have known it was Merlin. Everything in his life seemed to fall at Merlin's feet. Still… "But, how could you look after it? You were…"

"Dead. Yes. Well, I was… In a manner of speaking." He shot his eyes over to her, but she didn't pause to explain. "Excalibur is a powerful weapon. After it'd served its initial purpose, Kilgarrah instructed Merlin to hide it where no man could wield it. He gave it to me, and I guarded it in my lake for many years before it was needed again."

It was full of so many questions and riddles, that Arthur didn't know which one to ask about first. "_Your_ lake," He began, "but-"

"Arthur," Both of them jumped when Merlin appeared in front of them. The Warlock's eyes caught on Freya and he swallowed. "Freya, Valas is coming." The change in mood was instant. All three were instantly solemn. "Arthur, we need to leave, before he finds us and starts suspecting."

"Suspecting? Suspecting what?" Arthur was still unsure as to why Merlin was so antsy about the old magician.

"No, he's right, Arthur. Go with him." Freya's confidence in Merlin's instincts both assured and scared Arthur. She obviously knew what was going on, but then, if she agreed with Merlin, that could only mean that Valas…

Footsteps were coming nearer.

"Merlin,"

"Freya," They'd spoken simultaneously, and paused when they realized it and stared. Suddenly, Arthur felt as though he was intruding. He tried his best to melt into the background and forget the fact that Valas was heading closer. Eventually Merlin whispered to her, "Please be careful," and then the king and his sorcerer left.

"How did Gwen take it all?" Arthur asked as they walked back to the castle.

"Well. I think she'd figured out a lot of it. The details needed filling out, but Gwen… Well, you know how accepting she is," Merlin said evenly.

"And… what about the bit when… when I killed…"

"She wanted to go and find you."

Arthur's heart sank. She'd have yelled at him.

Merlin seemed to sense his unease. "She said she wanted to hug you," He said.

Arthur looked around at him in confusion.

"To comfort you," Merlin explained. "Don't act so surprised. This is _Gwen_ we're talking about."

As they walked on, Arthur thought of how wonderful it was to have a goodhearted woman like Gwen as his wife. He was about to comment that Merlin's wife was just as lovely, when he realized rather stupidly, that Merlin and Freya weren't actually married – or even properly together, for that matter.

And yet, part of Arthur wondered if they ever would be. He hadn't known Freya for long, and hadn't known of Freya _and Merlin_ for hardly five days, but somehow, someway, it just seemed _right_. He wasn't so selfish to deny their relationship for sake of his own friendship with Merlin, and despite the mind-reeling strangeness of Freya's story, Arthur had taken a genuine fondness toward her. In her, he saw a perfect complement to Merlin's quirky, wise-mouthed magic, and for just a fleeting moment, he wondered what it might be like if she could stay in Camelot long-term. He smiled.

Then he remembered Valas, and had to amend his original thought: He wondered if they ever _could_ be. He glanced at Merlin, who seemed to have aged a decade in the space of a week. He was a man who had been through things Arthur couldn't possibly imagine, borne burdens and suffered losses that Arthur was positive he didn't know all about. Gwen had mentioned to Arthur once how Merlin must've been made to love other people, and although he remembered answering with a witty retort at Merlin's expense, Arthur knew it was true. Of all people, Merlin deserved the chance to love another person. He deserved the chance to grow old with someone. He deserved the happiness that Arthur had found in Gwen. Arthur wanted that for him.

Still, there was the small matter of Freya coming back from the grave.

Of Valas stalking her every move.

Of magic playing an untold role in her appearance.

Of lakes and swords and stories that Arthur still didn't understand.

It was all a huge mess, a conspiracy that Arthur could sense lurking just beneath the surface, another fiasco of magic and enemies that harkened back to the days of Arthur's princehood. Only this time, he was king. This time, Magic was legal. This time, it was more than a kingdom at stake, it was a handful of glass hearts.

Arthur sighed and ignored the odd look that Merlin gave him as they walked.

Why, oh why oh why, was Merlin's life always so inevitably complicated?

The logical part of him was already formulating the problems with the situation, already thinking over how something would go wrong, how someone would end up dead, how Freya would disappear and Merlin would descend into depression, how he would fail to save that which his best friend cared about, whereas Merlin had saved his entire existence too many times to count.

Truly, Arthur liked the idea of Merlin and Freya. But something in his gut put him on edge. Something was going to go wrong. He could feel it. After all, the Fates had barred them from each other once. Who was to say they wouldn't do it again?

_No_, a small voice seemed to say inside his head, _this is it. Their second chance._

And for whatever reason, Arthur believed it, and decided that he would do anything to help them have the chance at the life stolen away years ago.


	9. The Explanation

**A/N**: Alright, people, this is going to be a long, info-laden chapter. So hunker down for a bit, this is a really important part of the plot. I've been planning this chapter for weeks.

* * *

><p>It was, perhaps, the first time that Arthur, Merlin, and Guinevere worked together as co-conspirators. And with magic, subtlety, and romance in the mix, it was one of the more novel adventures that any of them had ever embarked upon.<p>

It bore all the hallmarks of a potential disaster.

"Right, so, Merlin needs to get Freya to explain this whole… well, whatever it is." Arthur had his hands spread seriously on the table. Gwen and Merlin blinked from their respective seats. Eventually, Merlin said,

"Yes."

Arthur sniffed.

"How do we do that?" Gwen asked eventually. Arthur huffed and sunk back into his chair frustratedly.

"Well _I don't know_. That's why we're here, isn't it? Merlin, you're the sorcerer – what do you think we should do?"

Merlin choked. "Me? Don't you think that if I knew, I'd have done it by now?"

Arthur looked put out. "Well, it was worth a try."

More silence. Somewhere outside, a crow squawked loudly. Gwen coughed.

"Well, there is May Day coming up."

Arthur looked at his wife in confusion. "And?" He asked.

"Why not throw a banquet?"

"We always have a banquet on May Day."

"Yes, but a _proper_ one. Not just us, the entire court. Food, dancing, wine, the lot."

"How will that help us?" Merlin felt he had to ask.

"Well, you can ask Freya to dance, and if she can't explain then, just take her somewhere else amidst all the excitement, and Arthur and I will keep Valas busy." She looked between her husband and her friend. "He can't refuse a word with the _King_, after all."

The plan seemed so obvious once she'd said it that a brief silence ensued where Merlin and Arthur looked at her and each wondered to himself why he hadn't been the one to think of it first. The quiet was broken when Arthur looked to his wife in awe and said, "I love you." Gwen blushed. Merlin tried not to look as uncomfortable as he felt.

"Right," the sorcerer cleared his throat, glancing annoyedly at Arthur (who paid no attention) before nodding to Gwen. "It's good thinking, Gwen, only…"

"Only what?"

"Well, after all this trying to keep me away from Freya, you don't really think Valas is going to let me _dance_ with her, do you?"

Arthur snorted. "And when has a ratty old magician stopped _you_?"

"I don't want to make a scene."

Gwen was on a roll. She smiled amusedly. "Oh, I think I know someone who'd be willing to help out with that."

* * *

><p>In all honesty, Merlin was somewhat afraid that he wouldn't go down in history as Emrys, or as a dragonlord, or as the savior of magic in Camelot, or even as a decent manservant. Sometimes, it seemed the only thing people might remember him by were his <em>flowers<em>. But honestly, when his best friend the Queen asked him for walls covered in roses, daisies, and lilies for May Day, how could he resist? He heard people commenting on them as he walked through the growing crowd up to the dais.

"Any sign of Valas or Freya yet?" He asked Arthur. The King shook his head. "Not yet, though they promised to be here before sundown. I'm sure they're just – oh, wait, there they are." Arthur craned his head around Merlin to look at the doorway into the hall.

Merlin looked, and missed whatever Arthur said after that.

Freya was wearing a lightweight dress, as were all the other ladies on May Day, with modest sleeves and flowing material that had the color and texture of a flower itself. The shade of purple complimented her face, Merlin thought, and he wondered for a few moments at how she'd managed to weave so many different colored flowers into her dark plaited hair. He'd always thought that Freya was beautiful. But that night, she was _stunning_.

"…and then we found out that Gwen is pregnant. Triplets. We're naming them all after you. Gwaine will be the godfather."

Merlin blinked and looked over at Arthur, a dazed expression on his face. "Uhm, what?" He asked, completely oblivious. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Good Lord, it's worse than I thought."

"What's worse?"

"Your lovesickness. It's disgusting." Arthur tried to hide the smile that he felt bubbling up, but it showed through weirdly anyway. Merlin's oblivious expression didn't leave. Arthur slapped his friend on the shoulder as he passed. "Just try to stop staring, alright? And remember, you're supposed to _dance _with her, not _ogle _her. I don't want to catch you two snogging in the broom cupboard." Arthur didn't stick around to see Merlin's furious blush, but he knew Merlin well enough to know it'd be there. He laughed.

"You are _horrid_," Gwen grabbed his arm as he headed toward the new arrivals.

"You heard that?"

"No, but I saw it, and if Merlin's blush is anything to go by, I don't need to know what you said. Poor man."

Arthur snorted. "It _is_ rather funny, you have to admit; Merlin, the lovesick puppy."

"You know it's more than that," Gwen elbowed him "And before you laugh too hard, do remember, dear, how you were ogling _me _two May Days ago." Gwen smiled and Arthur found only a few seconds to let shock take over his face before he had to put on a smile for Valas and Freya. Gwen smiled in satisfaction when his blush shone through anyway.

"Lord Valas, a pleasure," he nodded, then turned to Freya, "Lady Freya, you look beautiful tonight." As a married man, he took her hand courteously but made no move to kiss it. She curtsied, and smiled at the two royals. She and Gwen made light talk in front of the men until the two parties went separate ways. After they'd left, Arthur lifted out his hand for Gwen to take it.

"Now that's _ogling_ is aside, my lady, are you ready to create a _royal_ diversion?"

Gwen smiled smugly and took his hand. "With pleasure, my lord."

* * *

><p>They'd told him to have a few drinks beforehand, just to make it seem realistic. He'd agreed without hesitation. Still, he knew he'd have to have something along the lines of feet to follow it all through, so Gwaine had restrained himself to only three tankards. Or at least, he'd tried to. After he took the last swing of his fifth, he turned in his seat and looked over to where the Lady Freya stood by Lord Valas. <em>Bloody hell, Merlin's a lucky git<em>, he thought. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve, straightened his tunic, plastered on his signature smile, and sauntered over to ask the lady for a dance.

* * *

><p>Merlin watched from across the room as Gwaine asked Freya for a dance. He almost felt offended when Valas showed no qualms in letting his daughter dance with a clearly drunken man, but somehow, he wasn't that surprised. Freya looked slightly uncomfortable with the entire thing, but Merlin knew Gwaine meant no harm and that Freya could handle it. He fidgeted anxiously while the song began, and watched as Arthur and Gwen, who had opted to forgo dancing for the time being, slowly made their way over to Valas. The foreign lord turned his back to the dance floor when they neared him. Merlin began across the room as Gwaine took his cue.<p>

* * *

><p>About halfway through the dance, Gwaine thought it was time to do some falling. Merlin might've thought that Gwaine took a cue off of Valas turning his back, but in reality, it was a happy coincidence that the ale in his gut had decided upon that moment to finally reach the part of his brain that oversaw coordination of his feet.<p>

It was just stumbling at first, and he couldn't help but laugh at himself, but then he was honestly tripping. All the while, Freya grew increasingly uncomfortable. Some of the other dancing knights laughed at Gwaine and tossed Freya sympathetic looks, and she gathered that this wasn't entirely unusual.

"Should'ha taken a few more drin's… Maybe would'a helped, eh?" Gwaine grinned up at her and tripped again.

"A few less, I should think, Gwaine."

Gwaine turned and yanked Freya along with him accidentally. "Ah, Merlin! 'Bout time, mate." He dropped Freya's hands unceremoniously and half stepped, half fell towards Merlin, pausing to say to Freya, "A pleasure, my lady." He fell when he tried to bow, and Merlin caught him. When Gwaine ended up in his face, the knight poked him annoyingly in the shoulder. "You know, Merlin," he said, glancing again at Freya, "you really are one lucky bas-"

"That's very nice of you, Gwaine," Merlin interrupted, "now go get some nice, cold water, why don't you?" He shoved Gwain in the general direction of the food table, and watched as he stumbled off the dance floor to make sure he didn't fall completely over. He turned back towards Freya and tried to smile normally. "Sorry about him," He said, and offered her his hand. She took it, and smiled slightly. "A necessary distraction, and no matter how foolhardy he is, he's a good man when he's sober." He carefully led her back into step with the dance. "You look beautiful, by the way," He thought it might've come out wrong, but she smiled widely at him.

"You don't look half bad yourself," She said, pausing to adjust his neckerchief that he reserved for special occasions. He swallowed, and after that odd moment, turned serious.

"I need to speak with you."

The mood change caught on, and she glanced around as though for Valas. "Now?"

"Perhaps. Can you?"

She blinked a few times. "Not… not here."

He nodded, having expected as much. He turned them abruptly so that he could see Arthur. Eventually, he met eyes with the King. Merlin nodded, and, trusting that Arthur had seen him, danced Freya to the edge of the dance floor. "Arthur and Gwen will buy us time. We can go out to the courtyard for now."

* * *

><p>Some people thought that enclosed, hidden places were the best places for secret conversations, but Merlin had learned from experience that, more often than not, the best place to discuss secretive matters was in the open, where approaching figures became visible before they entered into earshot. The courtyard gardens were utterly deserted, but he led Freya around the back to the most exposed, open-air bench in the yard. The noise of the banquet had died to a dull hum.<p>

"I'm sorry we've had to go to such roundabout, ridiculous ways to talk, I've just seen the way Valas-"

"No," She stopped him, "No, thank you, Merlin. You do it for a good reason. Now, we… we can't have much time. I have to… explain," He could feel her hands shaking in his as she spoke. He gave them a squeeze.

"Back at the lake. The first time. You said magic saved you," he reminded her where she'd left off, "and something about Valas."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "Yes. The magic. _Your _magic, Merlin. You said you wanted to save me," She watched his shocked expression grow as she spoke, "I don't think you knew it, but you _did._"

He sat there silently in shock for a lengthy pause. He began to shake his head. "I don't understand."

"When you were there with me, at the lake, right as I was dying, you… Well, I don't know exactly _how_, Merlin, but somehow, before I was too far gone, you gave me some of your magic."

He looked at her as if she was mad. "_What_? That's impossible. I couldn't have done that. And… and even _if_ I could have, I would have _known_."

This time, she squeezed his hands. "I heard you crying, Merlin," she whispered, "you had too much grief with you to know much else, just then." He was blinking quickly as he tried to understand. She continued, "You gave me just a tiny sliver of your own magic, somehow, and it kept me alive, protected me. I can't explain it, I don't remember it." He looked at her questioningly. She answered, "After you sent me to the lake, after you left, I was found."

"Found? By whom?"

"The Sidhe."

* * *

><p>Arthur had spent his entire life as royalty, and, as such, had spent a lifetime perfecting the art of pretending to enjoy a conversation when he honestly couldn't have cared less. He had to admit that Gwen was doing a rather good job of it too, considering she wasn't noble by birth. He felt a rush of pride for her. Ah, bonding over bluffing. They <em>were<em> royalty, weren't they?

"I must commend you on your choice in food, Majesties; truly delicious, and exotic." Valas was playing at the same game that his host and hostess were, but was doing far more dismally.

"Our kitchen staff is excellent, and we have visitors bringing in new recipes all of the time," Gwen smiled at Valas, "I'm sure you have some wonderful dishes back in Dralynnia, my Lord," She said.

"Yes, of course."

"Oh, I'd love to hear about them. Perhaps our kitchens could replicate some of them, to make Camelot feel more like home while you stay with us."

"Oh, no," Valas forced a laugh, "You're too kind, your Majesty, but I'm sure that they would bore you…"

"Please, I just want to make you feel comfortable, at home." And with the smile she flashed, there was no way Valas could refuse her. They all knew it. And so, with a fake smile, Valas began to elaborate on Drailynnian cuisine. Gwen's look of satisfaction wasn't a bluff. She truly was a natural at this, Arthur thought. And he hadn't had to say a single word. He had to fight not to smile adoringly down at her. _God_ he loved his wife.

* * *

><p>"The Sidhe?" Merlin looked alarmed.<p>

"They found me, close to death, but alive because of your magic. They took pity on me. They were very good to me, Merlin." Freya said. He seemed skeptical, because of his dealings with the Sidhe, but let her continue. "They realized what had happened, at least as much as they could, that another sorcerer had saved me by gifting me some of their magic. It was a weighty gift you gave me, Merlin," she said, and again he could only shake his head. He hadn't meant to _give _her anything, and yet, here she was, telling him that he had somehow saved her?

"They decided to honor that gift by finishing the work you started. They brought me back, or at least, back to consciousness. They explained what had happened, and…" She paused and looked up at him. "They lifted my curse, Merlin."

He looked surprised. How had he forgotten? He realized all at once how she hadn't looked haggard or injured the whole time they were there – how had he not noticed that she didn't act cursed? "Permanently?" he breathed, and she smiled somewhat uncertainly.

"As far as I can tell. They couldn't bring me all the way back – you saved me through magic, but I was still dying. I couldn't live as I had, in the world of men. They let me live among them in the Lake, in Avalon. They taught me the Lake's magic and adopted me as their own." A shadow came across her face, and Merlin felt an impending conjunction coming up.

"…And?" He asked eventually.

"And they… That is, they did treat me well. Until… When you needed Excalibur…"

"When you spoke to me? Through the water?"

"No. Well, yes. They taught me to do that. No, it was after that, at the Lake. Excalibur was a prized possession of the Sidhe, in the Lake. They knew its power and revered it. After we spoke, I told them that I had need of it, and they trusted me. They hadn't expected me to give it away, and when they found out, they were angry with me. Still, they weren't _so_ angry with me about Excalibur once you arrived."

"Me?" Merlin asked incredulously. He figured that the Sidhe would have hated him, after their rather unfriendly history together.

Freya, unaware of his reasons for doubt, nodded. "When you took Excalibur from me, you touched my hand, just for a moment, and when you did, the Sidhe realized that it was _your_ magic that had saved me. They sensed in you the same magic that they sensed in me, and they knew immediately who you were."

"They realized that I was Emrys?"

"Yes, though they knew that already. What they realized was that it was _Emrys _who had saved me. My magic, the magic you gave to me, Merlin, was tied to the lake, and the Sidhe could sense it everywhere. And when you touched me, the magic that you and I share linked together and, for just a single moment, the Sidhe could sense your great magic through me." She swallowed and looked at him as though she should be apologizing for something. He wasn't sure why.

"They… Could sense my magic?" He was still trying to figure out why this was significant.

"Yes. They realized then how powerful you were, that you were Emrys, that you had saved me, that you and I were linked by the magic you gave me." Her lip had begun to quiver and he was panicking to figure out why. "I didn't understand at the time why they weren't more upset that I'd given away Excalibur. I didn't figure out until later that they'd found something far more important to become angry about."

"What?"

"You."

* * *

><p>Arthur tried not to cast too many nervous looks in the directions of the gardens. He hoped Merlin would hurry up with whatever he was doing, because the royals were running out of stalling material. They'd talked about food, weather, dancing, geography, and had moved on to magic. Unfortunately, neither Arthur nor Gwen knew much about magic, and it was only a matter of time before Valas would ask where Merlin had gone. Arthur prayed that Freya could talk quickly.<p>

* * *

><p>"Me? What about me?" Merlin's head was reeling. Of course, he'd never expected to be popular with the Sidhe, but something in Freya's tone told him it was much more than unpopularity.<p>

She shook her head. "At first, it was nothing. They didn't do anything. Then, years after I gave you Excalibur, news from Camelot came in, that Arthur was king, that he'd made you Court Sorcerer, that magic had returned to Camelot at last. I thought they'd be happy." She sucked in a few tears. "They weren't. They acted so peculiarly… They… They seemed angry. Like they'd been angry for some time. They started to prepare, as if they were entering into a war. I asked them what was happening, and they bound me."

"Bound you?" Now _Merlin_ sounded angry.

She nodded. "With magic. They didn't explain anything, until finally, Valas came and-"

"Wait, _Valas?_Why was Valas there?"

She looked up at him. "It's a disguise, Merlin," She said, "Valas is a sidhe."

* * *

><p>Arthur's heart was pounding. He was used to battles, to melees and jousts – not this roundabout war of bluffing and waiting. Valas was growing impatient. They had no reason to detain him further without rousing serious suspicions. The dancers were scattering. The party was winding back around to the food and drink. And then, Arthur's worst fears came into being when Valas asked,<p>

"Where has Lord Emrys gotten to?"

"Oh I think I saw him leave to his rooms a while ago," Gwen bluffed, "he's really not one for parties."

Both Arthur and Gwen hoped the sorcerer would buy it, but somehow, both of them knew he wouldn't.

* * *

><p>Why Merlin wasn't surprised, he couldn't say, but he didn't interrupt this time. Freya continued, her voice growing shakier as she spoke, "They put me in a kind of prison. I didn't know why. None of them would tell me. The sidhe who had cared for me wouldn't anymore. Some threatened to bring back my curse. I didn't know what was going on. Then, they brought me before the Sidhe elders… Valas was there. They started chanting, I could feel the magic, and… And suddenly I was alive again, truly alive and human. Valas was as well, in the disguise of a human.<p>

"He told me that he was taking me to Camelot, that I would pretend to be his daughter, that… that he had a mission here." She began to sniff. Her hands were shaking even more violently. "He said that… that the sidhe would finish what they started, that I would help them. That…" And she finally sobbed once. He wanted to hold her, but at the same time, had to hear what she would say next. "that Emrys, that _you_ would be their path. He said that he… he would take the power th-that was supposed to be his, the power in me… _your power, _Merlin." She sobbed again, unable to help it. "he told me I was the only w-way to you, that to do it… to do it all _properly_, it had to be me. That I… I…" She was sobbing too heavily by then to continue, and without another hesitation, Merlin wrapped his arms around her. To his surprise, she cried harder and pushed him away, grief stricken. "You wouldn't, Merlin, y-you wouldn't, if you knew…" She wept loudly. He took her quivering hands, trying desperately to understand.

"If I knew what, Freya?" He asked.

She bit her lip hard against the sobs, but calmed down enough to choke out, "I'm sorry, my love, so, _so sorry." _ She looked up at him through the grimace of her tears, her wet eyes full of a kind of pain that he hadn't ever seen before in anyone. Just before the sobs broke through again, she whispered,

"They've sent me here to kill you."


	10. He Promised

He shouldn't have been surprised, something told him. Everything she'd been saying had led up to it. Somehow, it made sense. Still, it didn't keep the chill from racing down his spine. Here, sitting right next to him, was a woman sent specifically to murder him.

He had never wanted to hold her more, but he had to understand.

"Why you? Why does it have to be you?" He took her hand and was surprised when she let him. His unwavering voice despite her confession seemed to give Freya courage. She swallowed and told him,

"I-I don't understand completely. Valas is after your power, Merlin. He said that once… Once you are dead, your magic will be released. Normally, it would fade back into the earth, but Valas said… Said that _your_ magic would defer to _me_. Because you gave part of it to me, to save me. If you die, the magic that you gave me will attract your own, and… And I will have your power." She blinked and frowned. The idea repulsed her.

"Like two magnets," Merlin mused to himself.

"Just like," Freya said. He looked up at her, a confused twist in his eyebrows.

"But… I don't understand – if you would absorb my magic simply because I were to die, then why is it so important that _you_ are the one to kill me?"

Freya shook her head. "I don't know. I really don't know, Merlin." Her eyes were full of tears again. "He won't tell me. I thought he would have forced me by now, but he says that we… have to wait for the right time."

"Wait? Wait for what?"

She looked scared again. "Merlin, I… I can't stay here long."

He brushed her knuckles reassuringly. "Valas isn't anywhere in sight, it's-"

"No," She broke him off, "No, I mean here, in Camelot. I can't stay in Camelot long. The enchantment won't let me."

Merlin paused before he muttered bewilderedly, "Enchantment…"

"Merlin," Freya said, her voice soft enough to make him look up, "Don't you think that if I could come to Camelot under my own power, I would have done so years ago?"

"I would've hoped so," he had to say. And miraculously, it made her smile. It faded quickly.

"Of course I would've. But I couldn't. Can't. I can only live under my own power in the Lake. It's a place of magic that nurtures the second chance your magic gave me. To bring me here, Valas and the other Sidhe elders cast an enchantment on me, to temporarily keep me alive outside Avalon. But it won't last forever. Every day, it grows weaker, and sooner or later, it'll wear off and I'll…" She stopped there, hoping he would understand without having to have her finish. He did, and squeezed her wrists.

"I won't let that happen."

"Merlin, you can't…" She began to tear up again, her inhibition slackened by the fact that she'd been crying not moments ago, "You can't… I'm meant to _kill you_, Merlin, you can't possibly promise my own safety when _you_ are the one whose life is in-"

"No, I'm not going to let any of it happen. Not my death, not yours. We'll find a way, I promise, Freya."

"Merlin, you-"

A loud noise made both of them look back toward the castle. They could see two figures in the distance, but were unable to make out who they were until an over-loud voice floated to them,

_"Valas! Leaving so soon? Pudding is about to be served, I thought you might like to try…" _It sounded as though Arthur was still desperately trying to keep Valas away, but the bristled lord waved the king away with a mutter and continued into the courtyard. Freya's hand was on Merlin wrist, gripping hard.

"He knows. He always finds me, I don't know how… by magic… Merlin, you have to leave."

"No, Freya, I-"

"Go!" She shooed him, "I can take care of him myself, it'll be fine." He didn't doubt her, but still didn't budge from his seat.

"Neither of us are going to die," he was ignoring the approaching lord.

"_Merlin_," Her voice begged him to listen to her, but he kept speaking,

"Freya, you remember all those years ago, when I promised that I would look after you?"

That made her pause. She nodded. How could she not?

"I broke that promise, I broke it horribly. But I don't intend to do that ever again." He dropped her hands and put his on either side of her face. She stopped talking and looked at him. Later on, she would wonder how one pair of eyes could look so kind and so frightening at the same time. "_Neither of us_ are going to die, Freya. I _promise._"

They looked at each other for a tense second before Merlin glanced at Valas, who was closer. He looked back at Freya with concern and love all over his face, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her, but he simply brought his hands down to her shoulders, gave a quick squeeze, and left, quickly and quietly.

"Freya? Is that you?" It was Valas. He couldn't see her yet.

She sniffed back the remaining tears and readied the excuse she'd thought up a second before. "Yes, it's me."

* * *

><p>"I hope you two enjoyed your little chat, because I have officially made myself out to be the most irritating king in Albion's history, all for <em>you<em>." Arthur had expected Merlin to immediately comeback with a retort about him already being irritating, so when he didn't, the king frowned. "Merlin, you alright?"

And for perhaps the first time in their friendship, Merlin didn't bother hiding it. "No. No, I'm not. I think I'll head back to my rooms, if it's all the same to you?" He said, rubbing his temples and looking everywhere but at Arthur.

"You don't have to ask permission, Merlin…" Arthur trailed, scanning his friend's troubled face worriedly. "What happened back there?" He leaned in so no one else would hear, "What did she say?"

Merlin shook his head. "Later. Get Gwen and come to my tower after the party, I'll try and explain."

He'd gone before Arthur could say anything else, and the king couldn't seem force the smile back onto his face after that. He turned back to the party and wondered when it'd be over.

* * *

><p>Freya couldn't hide her tears before Valas arrived, so she crafted her story around them. Of course, he took one look at her face and knew she'd been crying.<p>

"What are you doing? What's happened?" he demanded.

"_You've_ happened, that's what!" She didn't have to make up the anger in her voice, "You… you… _monster!_" She rose from the bench she'd been sitting at, but still had to look up at him to meet his eyes.

"I see you've learnt no restraint over your tongue, still," He said annoyed, "Yet I still wonder what has brought this particular mood on. Why on earth have you been crying?"

And partially because she'd already been crying and partially because he was so utterly unfeeling, Freya found her eyes clouded by tears again. "How could you," he voice shook, "how could you bring me here, let me go to parties, see _him_ all night, watch him smile and dance and be so _nice_ me and everyone, and then later expect me to… to…" She didn't finish.

"To what? To kill Emrys? You know, I never thought you'd be this attached to him. From what you've told us before, you barely knew him. Why, you didn't even know he was Emrys until years later."

"He _saved_ me."

"_We _saved you, witch. You'd do best to remember it. _Our_ lake and _our _magic has kept you alive all these years – you'll notice that Emrys is here, and yet, it is still _our_ enchantment that lets you breathe. He couldn't save you if he wanted to."

"He already did. He did that years ago, before you, before the lake, before I was near death, he saved me." Freya was angry.

Valas laughed. "You truly are a silly maid like the rest, aren't you?"

"He _loves _me."

"Perhaps he did, once, but here we are now, and he's hardly spoken to you."

"That doesn' t matter."

Valas scoffed at her. "You're going to let your infatuation with him trick you into thinking he is your savior, aren't you?"

"No," She hissed at him, sticking her nose up in his face, "Merlin is not my savior; not my only one. I'm not infatuated with him, I love him, because he made a promise to me back then, and he's not gone back on his word, not once." She looked Valas up and down with distain. "More than I can say for _you_."

Valas' eyes flashed with anger. Their voices were rising in volume. "Emrys may love you, and you him, but it will never keep you from seeing his fate through to the end."

"I won't."

"Oh, I think you will. Emrys is strong, but not stronger than the Sidhe,"

"_Merlin_ is a stronger man than you could ever _pretend to be_." She didn't apologize for the angry spittle that hit him in the face. He raised his hand sharply, and she winced. When the blow didn't come, she looked up to see his hand in her face.

"I see I cannot beat down your passion, an opportunity that I daresay I would enjoy having. I am not ignorant of the fact that my past… actions have brought me under suspicion by the Physician, Gaius. Because I cannot punish you for deluding yourself over your _precious_ Emrys, I will allow you to see him as often as you wish. Don't blame me when it hurts – the closer you get, the more painful it will be." He lowered himself so that they were looking eye to eye, barely an inch between their noses.

"But if you tell Emrys _anything_ of why we are here, if he so much as _thinks _he's heard of your purpose, I _will _find out about it. And believe me when I tell you the consequences will be more painful than the feel of his blood on your hands."

Valas turned and left, whipping his robe back to sting her as he went.

Freya remained where she stood, lips thin and eyes hardened, the only emotion in her face leaking out through her drying tears. Although her heart was breaking, deep beneath the ruins there was a growing kindle of defiance that allowed her to glare at Valas' retreating form without fear of punishment.

_Catch us if you can_.

* * *

><p>It was the wee hours of the morning before they were able to meet, and despite the fact that there was no one close enough to Merlin's quarters to hear them, the trio spoke in whispers. He'd spent the evening clearing his thoughts, taking Freya's tear-ridden explanation and ironing it out into a logical briefing that he could present to Arthur and Gwen. Still, when he spoke, he couldn't dispel the image of her from his head, and the pain for her showed through in his voice. The king and queen had been very quiet as they listened, attentive and open.<p>

When Merlin finished, they all sat back in their seats quietly, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. Merlin had his index finger poised over his mouth in thought as he played with the day-old scruff on his chin. He still didn't understand it all. Why would Valas want to use _her_? Why not just kill Merlin himself? Why go to all the trouble of pretending to be nobility? Why the waiting? It was a puzzle that he couldn't unravel. He glanced at the tall bookshelves lining his tower, and wondered if they held the answer somewhere.

Gwen was watching the fire pop, the orange light casting harsh shadows where her brows came over her eyes in an intense expression. She'd become very fond of Freya in their time together, and couldn't imagine such a sweet soul charged to murder someone – of all people, Merlin, the man she loved. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what she _could_ do, or what Merlin might plan. But she knew that she would help. It was then that she realized that she no longer cared about Freya merely for Merlin's sake, but for her own friendship as well.

Beside her, Arthur was torn. The calmer, more subdued part of him that dealt with feelings ached deeply for Merlin. He couldn't imagine what the man must've been going through, learning that his true love might attempt to kill him against her will. Freya herself must've been terrified, he thought. But then, there was a much larger portion of Arthur's mind, one that made him fidget discontentedly and sigh, that demanded an immediate solution. Arthur had always been a man of action, determined to fix problems and present solutions to potential threats – usually with the point of a sword. But he knew instinctively that this would be different. Magic was a tool of subtlety and mystery. He'd told Merlin days before that he was an idiot when it came to magic, and he'd been telling the truth. He knew he was entirely out of his element, that he'd only partially understood the logic of Merlin's relayed explanation, but there was still an insistent little tapping in his mind saying, _"fix it!". _He wasn't sure if he should listen to his gut and jump to action, or wait for Merlin to come up with a plan. It was an odd thought for him, Merlin planning it all out. He'd become fond of taking Merlin's advice on things, but had never before let the other man plan something out entirely. He wasn't sure if he could muster himself to hand over the reins. Or, rather, if he should.

In his chair, Merlin shivered and drew in on himself. Gwen saw it and, in her intense thoughts and stress, defaulted to mothering mode.

"I'll go make some tea," She said quietly, and before she left, brought Merlin a blanket. He thanked her with the closest thing to a smile that he could manage. He wrapped it around his shoulders like a cloak, and brought it up close to his face. It cast strange shadows against the firelight that obscured his expression.

While Gwen was away, Arthur felt he could speak to Merlin as a man.

"You promised her you'd sort this, didn't you?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes." It may have sounded simple, but both Arthur and Merlin knew that promises were serious matters for men like themselves, nigh sacred between them and the women they loved. Arthur regarded Merlin carefully.

"And are you sure you can keep that promise, Merlin?"

"I'll have to, won't I?" Thanks to the blanket, Arthur still couldn't see his face very well. He sighed.

"But… If it comes down to it, Merlin, what will you do?"

For a long minute, the only sound was the sound of the crackling fire. A log shifted and sparks flew. At length, Merlin turned to look at his longtime friend, and Arthur could just make out his eyes and the confusion in them.

"I don't know."

Gwen's footsteps sounded on the stairs, and she arrived with a tray of tea for them all. After passing the cups around, she sat back down next to Arthur. The three remained silent until Gwen asked,

"Did she say how long the enchantment would last?" She sounded like she wanted the silence to end. Merlin didn't blame her.

"No. I've never had to use a spell like that, but… I've read of something like it – they're very subjective. There's no real way of telling. Only Valas would know how long it will last."

"Is there any way to tell?" Gwen fiddled with her teacup. Merlin sighed.

"No. It's a waiting game. As it runs its course, Freya will get weaker. The weaker she gets, the closer the enchantment is to ending. When it's near to ending…"

"That's when you think Valas will… strike?" Arthur asked.

Merlin only nodded.

"She seems plenty strong to me," Gwen said hopefully. Merlin agreed.

"She is. Which means we've got a while before it starts to wear off."

No one spoke for a few minutes. No one noticed that their tea was going cold until later. Eventually, Arthur asked,

"So what do we do, Merlin?"

Merlin didn't seem any more pleased with the answer than Arthur was. "We wait. I'm going to do some research, see if I can figure out what Valas has planned. In the meantime…" His face slackened, and he sighed tiredly. "In the meantime, I need you to help me keep an eye on Valas. And Freya," he added in a mutter, "especially Freya."

The royals nodded and murmured their agreement, before eventually leaving of their own accord. Merlin only noticed when Gwen stopped to lay an encouraging hand on his shoulder. "Just let us know what we need to do," she'd told him quietly. He thought he should respond , but in the end he merely sat there, staring into the dying fire up to his eyes in thought.

He'd gotten into hundreds of scrapes with death in his lifetime, but never before at the hands of an innocent, never before at the hands of someone he loved so dearly. It was a delicate situation, and frankly, Merlin hadn't the slightest inclination of what he would do.

It was a frightening feeling.


	11. To Love and Protect

Well, I'm back home for the summer after two full semesters at Uni (I am no longer a freshman… Weird!) and with any luck, that means I'll have more time to update. It's a good thing, too, because the sequel to this fic (Yes, I've got a third installment planned) has been nagging me like nothing else. I've been tossing about a few titles in my head, but one of the working titles is: _Stand, Speak, Listen._ I haven't settled on anything particular yet, and I can't give out details just yet, but… Yes, _A Second Chance_ will have a sequel!

In the meantime, enjoy the new chapter! Things have revved up, but they're still not quite up to speed just yet…

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><p>When Valas and Freya arrived in Camelot, everyone knew they would have a lengthy visit. New alliances and treaties weren't formed overnight, and the distance between the two kingdoms ensured that the visiting nobles had to resupply and regroup before they trekked back to their homeland. Of course, no one outside of the Royal family and their closest friends knew that treaty negotiations were Camelot's last priority when it came to Lord Valas and his daughter. Life, death, murder, and conspiracy were far more important. Thanks to Valas' new threat, however, they kept the matter as quiet as they possibly could. Freya had gone to Merlin the next day to warn him.<p>

"He can't know that you know," She'd told him in secret. When she explained what he'd said to her, Merlin agreed to play the fool around Valas, should the chance arise. In the meantime, he would quietly continue his research, warn the king and queen, and as often as he could, take advantage of Valas' leeway in seeing Freya.

In their new freedom to see each other, the relationship between Merlin and Freya was solidly reestablished over the next weeks. It was chaste as it had always been, but with a newer, comfortable quality that came with their maturity, and a freedom that neither had been able to experience before. When they'd first met, they were forced to hide from Uther, and then, years later, from Valas. But now, with neither scrutinizer to worry about, Merlin and Freya were unafraid to engage in a quiet, unofficial courtship.

The court loved it.

Aside from the normal gossip that arose when anyone of note entered a romantic relationship, the court and even peasantry seemed inordinately pleased that their court sorcerer had taken a ladyfriend. Contrary to what he might've expected, Merlin's bachelorship hadn't gone unnoticed, and some had begun to wonder if he wouldn't just spend the rest of his life cooped up in his tower. The prospect of romance for the young magician (and, as the gossip inevitably fell, the prospect of a _wedding_) sat very well with the court, save for one or two ladies who had secretly been holding out their own hopes for Emrys' affections. Nevertheless, no one in Camelot could escape the quiet hum of enthusiasm that buzzed whenever the subject of Emrys and his humble Lady came up in conversation.

Freya didn't mind the talk that she heard, though it embarrassed her to some degree to realize that others were talking about her where she couldn't hear. Since earning a nobleman's station, Merlin had mastered the skill of dignified ignorance when it came to court gossip, and it served him well to safeguard his easily-flustered conscience. Whenever Freya would mention whatever people were saying about them on that particular day, his face -his ears especially- would flush turnip red. The effect tended to multiply after she giggled at his reaction.

Arthur and Gwen showed quiet and friendly support as Merlin and Freya became the new 'item' of Camelot. Arthur broached the subject with Valas once or twice to gauge his opinion, but the Sidhe-turned-noble was incredibly good at hiding his true emotions. The pretend Valas, Valas the Dralynnian Lord, seemed to be pleased with his daughter's new suitor, especially seeing that Merlin was a master of the magical arts that Dralynnia valued so highly. He played up his pleasure even to the point of once suggesting an alliance marriage to Arthur – an idea that Arthur kindly rejected in lieu of waiting to see what his Court Sorcerer might say.

Still, Arthur wondered if the real Valas, Valas the Sidhe, had any more sinister thoughts. They hadn't heard anything about Valas, good or bad, through Freya in quite some time. The Sidhe seemed to have been distancing himself from them all for whatever reason. It was a comfort in day-to-day living, but both Arthur and Merlin were growing restless. It couldn't possibly last.

Wrapped up in these thoughts, Arthur sat in a comfy chair with an abandoned book, squinting at the back of Valas head. The pretend lord had his back turned as he mulled over a game of chess, but Arthur glared at him anyway, wondering if Merlin could read minds, and, if he could, if he could teach Arthur how to do the same.

"Penny for your thoughts," Gwen put a loving hand on Arthur's shoulder as she came up from behind. He looked up at her briefly and fixed his eyes back on Valas.

"I dunno," He hummed, "It's a bit of a muddle… Care for a word on the balcony?" He asked quietly, careful so that Valas might not hear. She nodded and allowed him to rise and lead her outside.

"Any word from Merlin, about…?" Gwen wouldn't finish, even though they were alone.

"No. Not lately. He seems frustrated that it's taking him so long to go through his library, and I don't want to push him too hard. He's doing the best he can."

Gwen nodded, and watched her husband quietly, waiting for him to voice his thoughts. Arthur noticed and sighed as he tried to sort it into words. "How do we tell?" He said eventually.

"Tell what?"

"What Valas is thinking – he's too good an actor. Freya seems at a loss about him, too."

Gwen was concerned about the same thing. "Yes, I asked her about it at breakfast, she said she couldn't get anything out of him – said he's barely talking to her."

Arthur sighed. He was afraid of that.

"Have you asked Merlin?" She asked.

"What, and brave the cave of books he's trapped himself in? Honestly, I'm afraid to. Last time I saw him this stressed, my room exploded. I don't him going berserk on his own tower, let alone the entire castle. He charged us with looking after Freya and Valas – we'll do it as best we can, leave him to his books." Arthur finished, and Gwen nodded at him. Then, a thought struck him, and he smirked, "Besides, if Freya knew anything, she'd tell _him_ to. They have been seeing quite a bit of each other lately," He waggled his eyebrows, and Gwen swatted him.

"Oh, stop it. I _know_ you're pleased with it, so don't belittle him. Them, rather."

"I wasn't belittling. I was teasing."

Gwen linked their arms together, sensing they'd reached an end to the serious subjects and moved on to banter. "All the same, its patronizing."

"Oh, come _on,_ Guinevere – he's my best friend. Freya is lovely, but if they end up getting _married_ or something, this is the only chance I've got to tease him about a girl before it's too late!"

"Too late?"

"None of the teasing counts once it's official – when you're married."

Gwen couldn't hold back her smile. "If Merlin heard you talking about him in relation to _marriage_ with anyone, let alone Freya, he'd surely die from embarrassment. Or shatter the roof again."

Arthur snorted. "I think that'd be worth seeing: Merlin Emrys, dragonlord and master of magic, buried up to his red ears in bits of castle, for embarrassment over a _girl_. Honestly, I didn't know if was possible for his skin to turn so pink until I told him what the kitchen staff was saying about him last week… or rather, him and _Freya_."

Gwen giggled, but elbowed him. "Hush! Someone will hear you."

"And? They've heard it all anyway. And more," he clarified.

"Oh, it all makes me hope that they _do_ end up getting married, so none of it will count at all."

And when they laughed together, neither king nor queen wanted to remember the fact that in Merlin and Freya's case, 'Till death do us part' was likely to come far before any wedding bells would ring. That reality was one best left hidden from the court, and at that moment of useless waiting, from the royals as well.

* * *

><p>Across the castle, up two flights of stairs and underneath an impressive mountain of parchment, marriage was perhaps the absolute furthest thing from Merlin's mind. After days on end spent digging through books, scrolls, sheets and manuscripts, he could practically taste the ink through his fingers. The evening before, when a kind young servant girl had (at Gwen's behest) come to offer Emrys his dinner, Merlin had accidentally accepted the offer in the Old Tongue, frightening the poor girl and flustering him until he could make his mouth work in English again. After that episode, he'd decided to put down the book of spells and opted for a history volume until the narrating voice inside his head stopped speaking in two languages at once.<p>

Now, he was back into spells, and deeply consumed in a thick tome on rites of the Old Religion. It was one of the older books in his library. To the vast majority of the magicians, witches and sorcerers that visited Merlin's tower, the book was utterly useless. It was a record of the deepest magic, magic unable to be performed by normal magicians. But then, Merlin could never have been called _normal_. To him, the book was of more worth than gold, and even in his exhausted, frustrated state, he handled the ancient pages with care. As his eyes scanned over the pages, Merlin knew – that is, _Emrys_ knew, with a terrifying self-awareness, that he possessed the power to perform all of them. He almost never opened the book, and even as he hunted for answers, refused to read a large portion of the spells. He didn't want to learn what his powers could do. He'd seen what power had done to others; Nimueh, Morgause, Morgana. He had more power than all of them combined, and while his friends would disagree with his paranoia, Merlin didn't always trust himself to mix his power with the temptation of such potent spells. He pushed the book away and vowed to return to it later, when he was more awake.

He rubbed at his eyes and nearly jabbed himself when a knock on the downstairs door startled him. Suddenly thankful that he'd moved his research to the third floor where no visitors could see the mess, merlin disentangled himself from his paper cavern and blew out the candle.

"_Leot,"_ he whispered, and a white glowing ball appeared to help him navigate the rest of the way. The main room of the third story had no windows, and he was somewhat surprised to see that it was nearly dusk outside when he'd gone downstairs. He closed the door to the third floor behind him, and was glad for it when he answered the first-floor door to find Valas standing in his antechamber.

It took him a moment for him to regain his composure. "Lord Valas," he said dumbly, "What a surprise." He smiled, and hoped it looked authentic. Valas played the same card.

"I am sorry for coming unannounced, Lord Emrys, I merely wanted to pay you a friendly visit, magician to magician." Somehow, behind the manner, Merlin thought he detected a threatening undertone. He wondered if he'd invented it in his mind.

"Of course," Merlin smiled, "come in." He remembered what he'd promised Freya about playing the fool, if ever the opportunity arose, and tried to convince himself that he hadn't the slightest idea about Freya, or Valas, or the Sidhe, or anything else that he'd learned. He was suddenly painfully conscious of the piles of books that lay open two stories above his head.

The beginnings of their conversation was awkward small talk. Weather, food, petty magic. Valas asked briefly about Merlin's involvement in Camelot's history, but unlike most people, seemed overall uninterested in the tales that Merlin humbly retold. Eventually, the subject matter turned over to Freya.

"You must understand, Emrys, I'm not one for gossip. But I can't help but hear that your court seems rather fond of you, and my daughter, together."

Merlin wished he didn't blush so easily. "So I've been told. I do my best to avoid gossip altogether, my lord, especially when it concerns me." Valas laughed.

"I understand completely, only, I wanted to know your thoughts – and don't be afraid to speak your mind to me because I'm her father – do you love Freya?"

It crossed Merlin's mind that of course Valas wasn't her father, so of course he should be afraid of him – Sidhe or not. And yet, saying the words to another soul out loud seemed to solidify the whole thing. It took simultaneously no effort and every effort in the world to make the words leave his mouth.

"I do. Very much, if I'm honest."

"Then honest you should be," Valas was smiling, "And so shall I: both of you have my blessing for a courtship, and whatever may come after."

_Whatever_ may come after. _Even murder_, Merlin thought. He smiled anyway and tried to make it seem like he didn't see through Valas' lie. "Thank you, my lord," he said evenly, "It certainly does mean a lot to me, more than I can say." And it wasn't a lie. Oh, it _meant_ something, alright, much, much more than Merlin could ever say without losing his life.

The rest of Valas' visit was spent talking about magic. Looking back on it later, Merlin would come to realize that Valas had been sizing up Merlin's powers, and the young sorcerer would thank the heavens for his own tendency towards humility. He was positive that the Sidhe knew that he was Emrys, but he wasn't sure if they knew exactly how powerful Emrys was. If they didn't know, Merlin had no intentions of letting them know. That, he thought, was information best kept secret until the proper time presented itself. His self-deprecating nature ensured that if anything, Valas left with a muddled picture of what exact powers Merlin possessed.

Before the lord could go, he stopped to examine an old artifact leaning against a bookshelf. "A fascinating staff you have here," he commended dully, and Merlin had to fight down the rush of adrenaline when he realized that Valas was picking up Merlin's Sidhe staff.

"It is. I've only ever seen another staff like it once – I hope I never have to do so again." He wasn't lying.

"Oh?" Valas seemed amused for some reason, "Why is that?"

"It is a Sidhe staff," He explained uselessly, hoping his fool-playing would convince Valas, "I acquired it some years ago."

"From someone you killed?" Valas looked at him with a flicker in his gaze that made Merlin's enemies seem closer than they had before.

"Yes," Merlin couldn't lie, "In defense of myself and of Arthur, and Camelot. A sad spoil of war; one whose like I hope I never have to see again, as I said."

"You didn't enjoy it, then," Valas studied him like a predator its prey, "killing its original owner?"

Merlin frowned. "Of course not." He wondered if Valas had actually expected him to.

The Lord said nothing for a while, and carefully inspected the staff. He picked it up and stroked its length, pondering over the crystal at the top. Merlin was all too aware of the fact that Valas could easily wield it against him then and there, and Merlin's heart raced inside his chest as he prepared for the moment when the Sidhe would strike. Only, he didn't.

"The Sidhe would take the killing of their own very seriously," He commented at length.

"You know of the Sidhe?" Merlin continued to feign ignorance. He caught the upward, haughty tilt to Valas' smile.

"Yes, you could say so. I wonder, why do you find them evil, Emrys?"

"Evil? I never said they were evil," Merlin answered defensively.

"You killed one."

"I did. But there is a difference between evil and corruptible." At his reply, Valas looked at him with a questioning eyebrow. He explained, "The Sidhe are a proud people, who crave power and will stop at nothing to get it. I've witnessed the corruption of power in many, but no one has ever defined it so diligently as the Sidhe." His voice sounded sure but innocent, but his eyes were like a hawk's as he watched Valas' reaction.

A small glimmer in the man's eyes shone red, and Merlin caught a glimpse into the hidden Valas that he'd never seen. He wondered if Freya felt this cold when she spoke to Valas. He thought, not for the first time, of how strong she was, in spirit and in body.

"You are right on many counts, Lord Emrys, but you may want to be careful how you word your claim," Valas' voice was tight, and seemed to Merlin as though he was fighting off anger, "The Sidhe do not _seek_ power, they _are _power. Underestimation of the fact would bring any of their enemies folly."

"I think you mistake me, Valas," Merlin said solemnly, "I do not oppose the Sidhe. I oppose those who threaten those I have sworn to protect; Camelot, Arthur, Gwen," _Freya_, he added silently.

"To protect those you_ love_," Valas pried, choosing the word especially for its new connotation to Freya herself. Merlin didn't miss the clue, but was feeling bold.

"Yes."

"And if the _Sidhe_threaten them?"

"Then I shall oppose the Sidhe, so long as their threat remains."

They had entered a glaring competition without either party knowing exactly when or why. "And how would you deal with their threat?"

"In any way that I could," He said cryptically. Valas, who was still trying to learn the limits of Merlin's powers, nodded and looked the sorcerer up and down.

"And if death was the only answer?" He didn't specify _whose_ death, Merlin noticed. He swallowed.

"Then so be it."

The silence that followed was tense, and Merlin wondered if Valas had realized that he knew. He prayed and hoped for Freya's sake that he hadn't.

"You are a loyal man, Emrys, though I do not know how your loyalty will repay you. I would advise you to tread your paths with care. You may find yourself toeing a line that you cannot overcome." Even if he hadn't known anything about Valas, Merlin would have heard it as a threat.

For a short, wild moment, Warlock and Sidhe saw the other each to himself as what they really were, and Merlin understood how powerful his opposition was. Freya's smile rose unbidden in his mind, and his anger against the Sidhe almost compelled him to raise a spell against Valas. He stopped himself before it could happen. Valas broke the tension with a smile that seemed bigger and faker than before.

"I apologize for my frankness, if it has offended you." Merlin could practically watch the mask slide back into place.

"Not at all, milord," He followed suit.

"A good night, Lord Emrys," Valas let himself out.

"You as well."

When Valas was gone, Merlin felt cold inside. He squeezed his fist and whished Freya's hand was inside it, if only to know that she was safe.

With a new energy fueled by an unnaturally insistent protective call, he took the stairs two at a time up to his study where he could hopefully, eventually find answers. He had to try. He'd seen the look in Valas' eyes, he knew what the Sidhe were capable of. But he also knew that there was someone he loved, someone he'd sworn to protect. The two terms were synonymous in his mind. With Freya, they'd appeared hand in hand since the day he'd laid eyes on her. He flipped through dangerous pages with determination. He would find the answers. Through Sidhe, Valas, and whatever came next, he would protect and love Freya to the end, or he would die trying.

It was only the truth. He lit a candle and blew dust off of the old volumes, his ink-stained fingers finding the pages that might, by some slim hope, have answers to tell.


	12. Perchance to Dream

**A/N:** Well, this is actually one of the very few chapters that I took more than a few hours to write (it's been sitting open on my comp for more than _two whole days!)_ so hopefully it's a little more well-thought out than some of my other chapters. Further plot explanations, ahoy!

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><p>If Gaius had known how long it'd been since his old ward had slept, Merlin was sure that the physician would brave the precarious stairs up to the top of Merlin's tower, regardless of the massive stacks of books and papers, and forcibly shove a sleeping draught down his throat. Luckily or unluckily as it may have been, Gaius didn't know, and Merlin was on his fifth cup of tea and only partially convinced that he wasn't dreaming yet.<p>

He'd exhausted every resource he could find, and between new and old dialects of spells, too many handwritings to count, and two languages to sort through, his mind was a linguistics mess that he wasn't even sure time could sort out. His eyes were dark and unfocused when he finally turned the last page of his thickest book. He sighed and lifted his tea to his lips, crying out in annoyance when he found that he'd already drank all of it. For a moment he wondered if he could manage to levitate the entire tea set up from the first floor, but somehow despite his fatigue, better judgment won out eventually and he decided that it was a bad idea. Mumbling to no one in particular, he closed the book in front of him and looked about for another that might be helpful. He let his left arm rest on the thick volume in doing so, and it suddenly occurred to him that a book so large might make a good pillow. Deliberately, he pushed the thought away and opened a new book on healing spells. Still, he couldn't get the idea out of his head, no matter how he shoved at it. That must've been how he'd ended up asleep, drooling all over his library.

Merlin wasn't a seer; he didn't have prophetic dreams like Morgana did, nor did he receive chronic insights into the depths of people's pasts or futures. But for whatever reason, whether by magic, or suggestion, or a unexpected twist of destiny that would baffle Kilgarrah himself, Merlin's unplanned sleep on his desk led him into a dream that would prove more useful than all the books in Camelot.

_He was walking through a thick fog. It was a normal type of fog. It felt wet and breathed thick and looked like a thinned-out cloud on the ground. It smelled familiar, though, and a muffled sound wafted to Merlin's ears and picked at his brain to decipher his surroundings. Just as he realized it was the sound of water, a voice cut through the fog in a sharp echo, a voice he thought he'd never hear again._

"_The Old Religion does not care who lives and who dies, only that the balance of the world is restored." Then, he was mildly surprised to hear his own:_

"_It is not the Old Religion who has done this, it is you!"_

_He remembered this. This was years ago – his first year in Camelot. He was on the Isle of the Blessed. He was about to kill Nimueh. Because she'd killed Gaius._

_As if by the trigger of his remembrance, the fog blew away with a gust of wind, and he was suddenly standing in the middle of the scene, looking at three figures; Gaius, slumped unconscious against an altar, Nimueh, and a younger version of himself standing opposite her. They were arguing with each other and did not notice him. He wondered if they would see him, but even as he walked right between them, they didn't notice him. Trying to ignore the rather disconcerting sensation of walking past himself, he went over to Gaius. He could hear magic and fire behind him, and Nimueh saying,_

"_You too are a creature of the Old Religion." The words rang in his ears, but he didn't look behind him. He pressed his fingers against Gaius' neck to feel for a pulse. He'd always wondered if Gaius had been truly dead in those moments before he'd killed Nimueh. Now, in this dream world, it seemed that the old man was well and truly dead. Despite the fact that it was an illusion, Merlin couldn't help it when his eyes teared up. _

_There was a crack and the heavens opened, and Merlin had to move so that his younger self could grab Gaius and shake him. It was strange, watching the agony he remembered so well play out on his own face. When Gaius awoke, even though Merlin was standing only a few feet away, only a few words reached his ears:_

"_You've mastered the power of life and death itself… make a great warlock out of you yet."_

_Merlin mirrored his younger smile, but all at once the fog reappeared and closed in around him, leaving the Isle, Gaius, and young Merlin behind. Then, more voices._

"_Avalon! What you saw at the lake, it's Avalon – it must be!" It was Gaius._

"_What's Avalon?" A younger Merlin asked._

"_The Land of Eternal Youth. Mortals are only supposed to glimpse it the moment before death."_

_Fog swirled, and suddenly he was standing behind himself and Gaius, looking at a book. Gaius traced a line on the page with his finger and read,_

"Abas ocus bithe duthected bithlane –_To hold life and death in your hands."_

_The scene began to change once more, twisting and whirling, but even before it settled, he could hear Freya's voice:_

_"They found me, close to death… they took pity on me. …They couldn't bring me all the way back – you saved me… but I was still dying… They let me live among them." And then, "Valas is after your power, Merlin. …They've sent me here to kill you."_

_And then he was suddenly in the palace gardens, this time in his own place in the scene, not watching himself. He was sitting on the bench, looking down at her. Freya had her hand on his cheek._

_"Merlin, Don't you think that if I could come to Camelot under my own power, I would have done so years ago?"_

_He reached up to grasp her hand against his face and began to speak, but no words came out. The sound of rushing water filled his ears as though he were rising to the surface of a lake. The roar grew louder until he broke the surface and gasped for air._

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><p>Arthur had always wondered where Merlin had learned to read in the Old Tongue. He'd never studied, by his own word, and while Gaius could read the ancient language (Gaius could do most things, Arthur had learned since his childhood) it seemed unlikely that he could teach Merlin an entire language so quickly. He wondered if warlocks learned languages and alphabets like they learned magic – instinctively.<p>

Regardless, Arthur couldn't read the garbled spellbooks to save his life. He tossed another one in a pile and looked over to where he'd found Merlin: asleep, drooling on his desk, surrounded by books, dust, and empty tea cups. He'd found a cloak in Merlin's wardrobe and draped it over the man's shoulders, and lit a small fire in the fireplace a safe distance away from all of the paper. Arthur had also done a small bit of reorganizing the mess that Merlin had made of his library, but not enough for the sorcerer to notice when he woke up. The last thing Arthur wanted was his old friend thinking that he was being _nice_.

He'd come to demand that Merlin end his hermitage for lunch with the royals, and had even been prepared to bribe him by saying that Freya would be there as well. But when he'd found the warlock snoozing soundly atop a book-shaped pillow, Arthur's softer side had won out and he'd decided to let the man sleep. He'd plopped down in an old chair to read while he waited for Merlin to wake up, fully intending to forcibly haul him outside of his tower for food and drink when he regained consciousness.

He'd just turned the first page of an English printed book about magic when Merlin jolted upright so quickly and sucked in air so desperately that it made Arthur jump and knock the book off his lap.

He recovered to say, "I was wondering when you'd wake up." He looked closer at Merlin and frowned at his wild expression. "You alright, Merlin?"

Merlin looked over to Arthur and seemed to notice his presence for the first time. Suddenly, louder than any groggy person should speak, he exclaimed,

"_Abas ocus bithe duthected bithlane!"_

Arthur looked at him as if he'd gone mad, and Merlin frowned when he realized that he'd spoken the words aloud. He looked about himself as if he'd just realized he was in his study, and stood up, his chair groaning against the floorboards. "Where's Freya?" He asked.

"I don't know… She, Gwen, and I were going to have lunch, but…" Arthur watched with growing concern as Merlin knocked his way around the desk, sending a teacup shattering its way to the floor. "Merlin, are you _sure_ you're alright?"

"I know," Merlin sounded breathless as he tripped over the cluttered floor, "I know what they're doing." He either didn't care or didn't realize how little the sleep had worn off and how uncoordinated his legs were being. "I know what he's going to do. Need to-" and then he fell completely over, and a huge stack of books came tumbling down with him. He rebounded immediately and stumbled towards the door. "-tell Freya."

Arthur watched with wide eyes and mouth agape as his friend, drool-faced, mash-haired, messy robed and sleep-drunk as he was, tumbled down the stairway with determination. Half because he wanted to hear what Merlin had to say and half because he was afraid the man might actually hurt himself, Arthur rose and followed quickly.

_This_, he wanted to hear.

* * *

><p>Merlin had found Freya quickly (Arthur swore Merlin must've put some magical spell on her so he always knew where she was – the cheater) and had tried to explain whatever it was that he wanted to say in an incoherent slur of drowsiness. She'd hushed him up and, after asking Arthur to send for Gwen because Merlin obviously had something important to say, attempted to clean up Merlin as best she could.<p>

While they waited for Gwen to arrive in the Royal Suite that they'd opted to meet in, Freya sat by Merlin and was attempting to tame his bed hair using her hands as a comb. Merlin seemed to be enjoying the treatment to the point of almost falling asleep again, and Freya wasn't doing a good job of hiding her smile. She might've found it all very endearing, but Arthur turned away with an obligatory face of disgust. Still, he felt comforted to know that Freya was not only able to put up with a half-asleep, drool-mouthed, stale-breathed, incoherent Merlin, who had obviously not bathed for a few days, but was willing to clean him up, too. She _must_ love him, Arthur thought.

Merlin's hair was reasonably normal looking when Gwen opened the door.

"Gwaine said it was urgent?" She was breathing heavily like she'd run up the stairs. She took in the sight of a half-asleep Merlin with freshly combed hair and Freya who was still fighting back a smile. "What's with him?" She asked Arthur.

"That's why I called you. He's been trying to tell us something since he woke up about ten minutes ago, but hasn't been able to get out a sensible word yet. Well, unless you count his magical gabble as sensible."

"Completely sensible," Merlin interrupted.

Arthur eyed him. "Of course. Well, now Gwen's here, and _hopefully_ you've had time to wake up. What is it that you were going on about?"

Merlin had to take a second to sort out his words, but his eyes lit up with his newfound understanding and cleared away the lasts fogs of sleep. "It's about Valas," He said, and immediately had all of their attention. "I know what he's planning. I know what he's going to do."

Next to him, he could sense Freya sit up straighter, her eyes fixed on him as he spoke. He cleared his throat, and began talking.

"We already knew that Valas is after my power, but we didn't know how Freya worked into it. I think I've figured it out. He knows that if he kills me, my power will differ to Freya, but he also knows that Freya can't wield my power effectively, not like she is now."

Arthur was frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Freya's not… That is…" Merlin looked apologetically at Freya, and she seemed to understand what he was trying to say. She gave him a kind look, and he finished: "Freya's not exactly… properly alive." It sounded strange, and it earned a short pause from his audience. He elaborated, "The Sidhe gave her sanctuary in Avalon, the land of eternal youth. There, she could live as they do, by magic in the lake. It's how they saved her from death. But outside of the lake, she needs an enchantment to keep her alive," he looked at Freya, and she nodded her confirmation. "Thing is, lake or no lake, she's not _alive_ in the truest sense, and thus, can't wield all of my power as she might if she _were_ alive. If I'm right, the Sidhe intend to fix that."

"What, they have the power of resurrection, the Sidhe?" Gwen asked, baffled. Merlin shook his head seriously.

"No. They have the power of life and death."

Freya was the only one who understood immediately, and she gasped and put a hand to her mouth. She drew her own conclusions quickly enough, and was shaking her head softly when Merlin looked at her. He gave her a soft look and snuck his hand over hers.

"That sounds dangerous," Arthur said. "…What does it mean?"

Merlin's face was in a serious frown. "It means that they intend to kill two birds with one stone, simultaneously granting Freya her life and transferring my powers to her by…"

"Killing you." Gwen finished for him. Merlin nodded. Another pause. Arthur was the one who spoke first,

"But how does it _work_?"

Merlin winced. There were only two instances he knew of to use as examples, and both hit extremely close to home with Arthur. It hurt him to explain, "It's like what happened with your mother, Arthur," He felt horrible when the king stiffened. "Nimueh used the powers of life and death to ensure that you lived, but your mother ended up dying for it. A life for a life. The balance of the world must remain, regardless."

Arthur was blinking, trying to keep his face straight. "But that… her death… was an accident. It wasn't planned."

"I don't know. I wasn't there when it happened, but… when Nimueh tried to take my mother's life instead of mine, and then Gaius'… That was no mistake. There was a plan behind it all, I'm sure of it. She _did_ choose who died, even if she claimed not to have." _'It is not the Old Religion that has done this, it is you!' _His own words rang in his head. "I don't know what incantations or spells she used, but… there was a plan behind it all, I'm sure."

"But… when you killed Nimueh, you said you didn't say anything, and it seemed to work," Arthur pointed out. Merlin nodded, equally as baffled.

"To be honest, I don't know how I did that. It's one of those things, that just sort of… happens. I wish I knew what I did, then. I barely knew then – I know less now. I've never had a reason to use those powers again." He frowned, then straightened up. "But I'm positive, there must be _some_ sort of rites to control the process. And I think that the Sidhe intend to use them to sacrifice my life for Freya's. To ensure that she can absorb all of my power."

"But why me?" Freya finally spoke, "Why does he want _me_ to do it?" She sounded hurt. Merlin looked both sad and angry.

"I'd thought of that. I can only think of one reason. Valas knows that I can kill him." His mouth was set in a hard line. "I don't know if he knows that I, too, have the power over life and death, but he knows I'm powerful enough to kill him or any other Sidhe who makes an attempt on my life. He's… He's using you as a pawn, Freya, to distance himself from my murder. He knows that I saved you once, that I could never bring myself to hurt you. If he were to personally attempt to kill me, it'd be a suicide mission. I wouldn't hesitate to retaliate in self-defense. But if _you're_ the one who does it?" Merlin paused and a gentler look crossed his face. "How could I ever hurt _you_? He's tied my hands. Either I let you kill me, or I'd have to kill you. And he knows I could never bring myself to do that."

Freya's mouth was quivering, her eyes burning with rage. "That _bastard_," She hissed, and wiped angrily at her tears, "That stupid, bloodthirsty, traitorous _bastard_." She could only partially bite back her sob, and Gwen came around to comfort her. Merlin sent the queen a thankful glance.

"Couldn't she just refuse?" Arthur asked, frowning deeply. "If Freya actually has to do the deed, then couldn't she just… not?"

Merlin sighed. "I wish it were that simple. The thing about the rites over life and death is… it really only works if the person meant to live is quite on death's doorstep - how it was with you and the questing beast. That's why Valas has been waiting all this time. The Sidhe have cast an enchantment on Freya to keep her alive outside of the lake. It's wearing off slowly, and when it does, when she's nearly death, that's when he'll use the rites and kill me. When he sends Freya to murder me, she'll be dying. She'll have to choose between her life or mine. If she kills me, she lives. If she doesn't, she dies. Either way, _one of us _has to die."

"No." Gwen answered almost immediately, still holding Freya. "No, you'll figure it out." It sounded almost like a plea. "You always do. You'll find a way."

Merlin hoped she was right.

Gwen continued to rub comforting circles on Freya's back. Freya was sniffling and had red eyes, but Merlin couldn't remember ever seeing her look so dangerous. She was practically seething. Arthur was quiet, but had an intense twist in his browline that indicated deep thought. Merlin watched him and waited for him to speak. Eventually,

"What _are _you going to do, Merlin?" It seemed as though his thought had led to a dead end.

Merlin sighed. "I don't know. I could… That is, I could try and use the same powers against _Valas_ before he can use them against me."

Arthur looked surprised. "You mean, kill him first?"

Merlin looked uncomfortable. "Well… It's the only alternative I can think of. A preemptive strike is the only solution that I can see saving both of our lives," he glanced at Freya. "Still, it'd be tricky. Like Valas, I'd have to wait until Freya was practically dead before I could use the rites and have them work, but I'd have to do it before he tried to do the same. It'd be a waiting gamble. Plus, I don't know what incantations to use to invoke the rites – if there even _are_ any. I've only ever done it once, and I hardly knew what I was doing, then. I'd be shooting in the dark with an _extremely_ powerful spell. It'd be incredibly dangerous. But I don't know what else to do."

"But we'll have to wait all the same?"

"We'll have to wait. No telling how long."

Arthur sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."

Their conversation fizzled out after that, and after they'd left the royal suites, Merlin couldn't help but bring Freya into a tight hug for a few minutes, refusing to let go until he was sure she'd be alright for him to leave. She was angry and confused, and had half a mind to attack Valas the next time she saw him. She told Merlin this, and although he thought he might actually want to do the same, warned her not to.

"We'll deal with him when the time comes," he told her quietly.

"But what if we're off the mark?" She mumbled against his tunic, "What if we're too late? What if he strikes first?"

The question frightened Merlin more than he would let on. "I'll figure something out. I promise." It was a prayer. "Let's focus on today. Let tomorrow bring its own troubles." He pulled back slightly and kissed her on the forehead. He looked her in the eye, and she nodded at him. Neither of them smiled, but he took her hand and began slowly walking toward the main part of the castle. "Come on, we both need food. No matter what Valas has planned, it can wait for now. Just take it one moment at a time."

_And it enjoy it while it lasts,_ his subconscious added. He didn't know that Freya was thinking the same thing. They walked to the dining hall hand in hand with solemn faces.


	13. If I Ever Get the Chance

**A/N**: Just a quick warning for this chapter: I have never written such mushy, indulgent romantic fluff for any other story in my life. So I suppose you could label this as the 'hyper-Freylin' chapter. Sorry if you choke on the sap.

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><p>Although Merlin wasn't sure it was an entirely good idea, Arthur called a meeting of the Round Table – its first secret meeting, started as an inconspicuous training exercise but held in some of the below-ground barracks where they could speak privately. The barracks were stale, foul-smelling quarters, cramped, and of course there was no actual round table present. Still, all the knights assumed solemn demeanors as they waited for an explanation from Arthur. Their king remained silent until a door creaked, and Merlin let himself in and sat down on a bench next to Elyan.<p>

"You know what this is about?" The knight whispered to him. Merlin didn't answer, but nodded at Arthur, who took Merlin's arrival as a cue, and proceeded to brief the company on the situation with Valas and Freya. He said it all incredibly frankly, sparing Merlin's personal details and outlining the entire scenario in the same way he would outline a battle. Still, Merlin's blossoming relationship with Lady Freya was common knowledge to all of the knights. They sent him concerned and sympathetic glances as Arthur spoke. Merlin felt gratitude toward them, but couldn't meet their eyes.

Of course, when it came time for Merlin to present his possible solution to the problem, he wasn't met with ready agreement. He'd expected such a reaction. He knew knights hated waiting for anything.

"Wait?" He could've predicted that Gwaine would be the first to speak, "All that time? While Valas is plotting to kill you? Under our watch? Why not just kill the bastard now so we don't have to worry about your murder at all?" A few of the knights nodded at Gwaine and looked at Merlin for a reply.

"It's not so simple," He told them, "If we kill Valas, the Sidhe will know. Their magic is annoying like that. I'm pushing it in saying that we should kill him at all, rites of life and death or no – either way, we'll have to deal with the Sidhe after they realize we've killed one of their elders. But if we're going to kill Valas and incur the wrath of Avalon, I'd rather it be for a productive cause, namely, saving Freya."

Gwaine nodded, and looked down thoughtfully. It was Leon who spoke next.

"What would you have us do in the meantime, Sir?"

Ever a man of duty and protocol, Leon had taken to calling Merlin 'Sir' a few months after he'd been inducted into the court. Only Arthur knew how much it embarrassed the former servant, but Merlin tried to stop himself. He knew Leon only meant respect.

"Watch. Wait. It is paramount that Valas not know of our awareness; the moment he finds out that we know his plans… Well, just don't let him know. And if you see any signs of suspicion against us, let Arthur or myself know immediately. We can't afford to miss a beat. The more eyes we have on Valas, the better – only, _don't let him know_."

"Are those your orders, Sir?" Leon again.

"They are."

Leon nodded and looked around at his colleagues, who nodded as well. Although they were all technically the same rank, Leon's seniority in Camelot and structured personality made him the default captain of the knights. He looked back up to Arthur and Merlin, and his eyes gave his superiors a sense of confidence. After a brief silence, Arthur stood and said,

"You have my thanks, men, and you have your orders. You are dismissed."

As they talked and walked out of the barracks, Gwaine hung back to say to Merlin,

"I was wondering why you've been looking so sullen with such a pretty face on your arm all the time. I'm so sorry, mate." And he looked it.

Merlin couldn't find anything to say, but nodded.

"Don't worry, Merlin, we'll sort it." He smirked as he so often did and added, "Or at least, _you'll_ sort it. You've always sorted this kind of thing in the past; this time will be no different. I know it."

Merlin smiled at him. "Thank you, Gwaine. I hope you're right."

To Merlin's surprise, his friend let out a bark of laughter. "Don't be so modest, Merlin. The greatest sorcerer to have ever lived? What's a few Sidhe to you?"

"Not to me; to Freya."

Gwaine shrugged to concede a point, but pressed on, "But really Merlin, you can't possibly forgotten all these years you've spent guarding Pretty Boy's arse, can you've? You've faced far worse." He slapped a knight's version of encouragement on Merlin's shoulder. "Trust me, it'll be fine in the end, for everyone." Merlin thanked him again and smiled as he walked away.

But try as he might, Merlin couldn't really recall a time that he'd ever faced something quite like what was right in front of him.

* * *

><p>In the days that followed their meeting, a strange feeling of conspiracy was borne within the castle. Whenever Merlin locked eyes with one of the knights, or Arthur, Gwen, or even Freya, a strange understanding clicked and relayed messages between each person, even though outwardly their faces didn't change. Once in a while, Merlin would hear a report from Leon or one of the other knights, and every time it was the same thing: 'Nothing so far. Everything seems quiet.' It was both relieving and maddening, but after the first few days, Merlin decided that he would do his best to ignore Valas altogether. The knights had an eye on him, which meant Merlin could spend his time in other pusuits.<p>

Such as Freya.

Now that their relationship was solidly established (though still not official, Gwen would tease them) Merlin didn't feel any shame in asking Freya for otherwise unwarranted amounts of her time. They took walks, talked about all things, and once, Merlin had even tried to show her his experiments in his alchemy lab. However, when he'd ended up with soot in his face, a singed eyebrow and an over-amused druid girl giggling at his misfortune, he'd decided that perhaps it wasn't the best idea. Eventually, he invited her to his tower for dinner one evening. He recalled years ago when Arthur had been trying to impress Gwen by inviting her to dinner. He smiled at the thought of Arthur's kitchen incompetence. Unlike the king, however, Merlin had not been raised with other people making his food. He was a reasonably adept cook, and by the time Freya arrived, his quarters were filled with a sweet aroma.

They sat together and ate, smiling and talking as though Valas didn't exist, as though Freya wasn't dying, as though she had never been instructed to kill Merlin in the first place. After they'd finished their meal, he took their plates and rose to return them to the kitchen. She followed him down the stairs.

"I must say, I wasn't expecting you to be such a good cook," She told him. He cast a look of mock-hurt back at her.

"Oh? And why not?"

"Perhaps it's living among druid men all my life, but in my experience men char food more often than they cook it."

Merlin hummed as he set the dishes in the washing basin and began to clean them. "I am technically druid by descent, so I'll take the point. Still, I don't think most druids spent their time cooking for a prince. A very _picky _prince, mind you."

She laughed and took a plate from him to dry it. "I suppose Arthur can't cook, then?"

Merlin laughed suddenly. "_No._" he assured her. After he handed her the last dish to dry, she had her back turned. He took it as the perfect opportunity.

Just as she finished setting the plate on the counter, Merlin came up behind her and covered her eyes. "Merlin?" she asked somewhat uncertainly.

He smiled and thought to himself how perfectly she fit under his chin, how nice her head felt against his chest. "Hold out your hands," he told her. She did, just in front of her.

"_Eorðbergan_," he whispered. A small weight settled in her hands.

"What…" She asked confusedly. Smiling behind her, Merlin lifted his hands from her eyes, and she gasped in delight. She turned around to face him.

"You remembered," She smiled widely. She looked at it, then back at him. "All those years, and you remembered."

"Of course I did. I told you I would." One of his hands found hers.

She smiled and took a bite of the fruit. "Mmm," She nodded in appreciation, "I must say, this one does taste better than the rose."

He laughed at the memory, a bright smile settling onto his face. She brought her free hand up to cup his smiling cheek.

"There, you see, that's what I've missed the most." Her gaze lit on his smile, and even as it faded, her eyes stayed on his mouth. Suddenly, Merlin realized that in all the time since Freya had returned to his life, he had yet to kiss her. He thought he wanted to change that, so he leaned down and did his best.

She tasted like strawberries.

* * *

><p>Gwen knew that Merlin and Freya were having dinner together that night, but she didn't know they'd had it in Merlin's tower, so when she passed by his quarters and heard his voice, she thought that he must have returned from his outing with Freya. Curious, she popped her head in to ask how it had gone, and was only just able to keep from gasping at the sight of Merlin and Freya standing just outside his kitchen, kissing each other.<p>

She was terrified that they would see or hear her, that she would ruin their moment, (and embarrass them both, no doubt) but eventually, Gwen mustered up the courage to dart back out of the room, her cheeks and neck burning, leaving the two lovebirds none the wiser. She couldn't repress the smile that was spreading across her face. She was sure that, had Merlin ever taken any ladyfriend, she would have been happy for him, but after having become such good friends with Freya as well, she was positively giddy.

"Now you had better make it official," she growled quietly through a smile, "or I'll never forgive you two."

Later that evening, after Gwen happened to find (she had definitely _not_ staked out the door to Merlin's tower) Freya walking back to her chambers, she came up beside her and threaded her arm through Freya's. The other girl jumped, but relaxed when she saw the queen.

"So," Gwen asked suggestively, "How did it go?" Gwen felt like a schoolgirl consulting her friend on a crush, but she didn't care. She regarded both Freya and Merlin far more highly than that. Still, for some reason, the fact intensified the girlish feelings she had about them both.

Freya laughed and ducked her head, trying to hide her blush. "It went well," she said quietly, "Merlin is a good cook."

"That, I knew. He's always the one to cook on long trips. Even shows _me_ up, some of the time." She waited a moment and when Freya didn't comment further, asked: "But is he a good _kisser?_"

"Gwen!" Freya's face burned, and she swatted at her friend's arm. Gwen laughed despite herself.

"What? Surely he's kissed you. If he hasn't, it's a shame. You two are perfect for each other."

Freya ducked her head again. "I'm glad to hear you think so. And… yes, actually, he did kiss me, after dinner."

Gwen hoped Freya didn't somehow guess that she had _seen_ them. How embarrassing. "And?" She prodded as only a woman could to another woman, and when Freya looked back up, she was smiling. Gwen recognized her look.

"It was… nice," She said, and Gwen watched her. "…warm. Like magic." She looked at Gwen, and the queen let out a chuckle.

"With that man, it might just have been."

They laughed and walked to Freya's rooms together. It was well past dark, and neither of them had to look at Valas' bedroom door even as they bid each other goodnight. But after Gwen had left and Freya sat alone on her bed, she remembered her reality.

Suddenly, she realized how tired she was, how sore her arms and back had become. Merlin had said that she would grow weaker, before she…

No. She refused to think of that now. For the moment, she was healthy. It had been a lovely day, she'd shared dinner with the man she loved, and gossiped about it like silly school girls with her new best friend. She looked down at the strawberry she held, one of the ones Merlin had given to her before he'd kissed her.

For now, it would be enough. She fell to sleep with a small smile on her face, a bright red strawberry resting on the nightstand beside her.

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><p>It wasn't long before Freya's weakening state became apparent to the rest of the castle.<p>

She awoke later and later in the morning. Her walks with Gwen through the gardens became shorter. She ate less, and couldn't always muster up the strength to go to dinner. Once, Percival had to carry her up the stairs.

Gaius treated her as best he could, given the circumstances, and kept Merlin and Arthur informed as to how close he estimated she was to death. It was a morbid subject, but an important one. Merlin visited her often, sometimes simply sitting in the room with her while she dozed on a couch for a few minutes' sleep. Gwen also spent time with her, and Arthur went out of his way to make sure the queen was free from her duties whenever possible to see her friend. Her visits to Gaius' home became more frequent as the days wore on. Her condition worsened exponentially each day.

All the while, Valas played the part of concerned parent very convincingly.

"Will my daughter be alright, Gaius?" He would ask innocently.

"Is she sick?"

"Oh my poor dear Freya,"

"She needs rest."

"Thank you so much for your concern, my Lords,"

"I'm sure she'll be fine soon."

It was all enough to send Merlin's blood boiling, but he was able to keep himself in check. It was actually _Gwaine_ who was readiest to clobber the man. Overfond of women as he may have been, Gwaine was a loyal man at heart, and after it became clear that Freya's affections belonged to Merlin alone, Gwaine not only cut off his own advances, but took up an unspoken oath to protect the two at all costs.

"It won't do to seethe, Gwaine," Merlin told him quietly after Valas had come into Gaius' chambers to fret over his 'daughter'. "Remember orders."

Gwaine sighed deeply through his nose, but nodded. "I'm going for a drink. Tell me if you need a sword in that man's skull." He sulked off, boots thumping loudly against the floorboards.

Merlin turned to look at Freya, who was sleeping in the bedroom that used to be Merlin's, one that Gaius had converted into a patient room in Merlin's absence. "How long does she have?" He asked his old mentor.

"It's hard to say. The symptoms are progressing so quickly… I've never studied someone under such an enchantment." He shrugged. "But if she goes on like this, I don't believe she'll last through the week. If you're going to move, Merlin, you'd best do it quickly."

Merlin nodded silently, and Gaius watched him for a moment before asking,

"Do you think it will work, Merlin?"

"I did it once," He said, still looking down at Freya, "I can do it again." _I hope_. The last words were unspoken, but Gaius knew his ward well and seemed to hear his thoughts.

"I know you can, my boy." The room was silent for a while, and Gaius pulled up a chair beside Freya's bedside to put an aromatic poultice by her face, which he hoped might breathe some temporary strength into her. He looked at Merlin and felt as though he should give the warlock something else to occupy his thoughts.

"After this is all over, Merlin, when the two of you are both safe," he decided to put the end of the predicament in definite terms, "do you intend to pursue courtship with Freya?"

Merlin nodded after a moment. "I would."

Gaius turned fully to his former apprentice. "And marriage?"

Merlin blushed. "I had thought of it," he said.

Gaius smiled slightly, and nodded as he turned back to Freya. "If you hadn't, I might have had to inspect your head." Merlin laughed behind him, and Gaius felt good to have made him smile. "You two will both have my blessing, of course. Although," he turned back to Merlin, "You might want to mention it to your mother first. Not to mention Freya herself."

Merlin chuckled again, but it died away quickly. "Of course. If we ever get the chance."

_If._

Gaius sighed and rose from his seat. Merlin watched him with a pleading gaze, a look begging for an answer, any answer, like he used to when he was still a naive boy from Ealdor.

"Merlin," Gaius said, and put a hand on either of Merlin's shoulders. "Son," He amended kindly, and Merlin looked touched and surprised. Gaius had never called him that before. "I believe that you will find a way to end this well. We all have faith in you. Perhaps it's time you had a little faith in yourself." Merlin looked unconvinced, but he couldn't find any words to voice his protest. Gaius seemed to read it in his eyes, but didn't say another word. Instead, he pulled Merlin into a gentle, fatherly hug, and the tall sorcerer suddenly felt like a young boy again, holding onto his parent for support and comfort. He hugged Gaius back and wanted to hear him say that everything was going to be alright. But he didn't. He only hugged him.

"I have every confidence in you, Merlin," Gaius pulled away, and smiled. "You saved this sorry old man, after all. I think you can spare to save a beautiful young lady like Freya."

Merlin smiled and shook his head at Gaius' self-deprecation, but didn't say anything. Eventually, Gaius patted the taller man on the shoulder.

"It's getting late. I'll watch over her until morning. You should sleep."

Merlin nodded halfheartedly and cast one last look at Freya's sleeping form before turning back toward his tower. Tomorrow, he would make his move and put an end to it all. Tomorrow, he would see if he really did have the power over life and death. Tomorrow, he would kill Valas, incur the wrath of the Sidhe, and save Freya's life and his own.

As he crawled into bed that night, he didn't know that he would never get the chance.


	14. Ultimatum

**A/N:** Alright, readers. Here it is: the climax of the story and probably the most important chapter in the entire thing. Enjoy, and I can only apologize for the ridiculous amount of over-dramatic sap in this chapter!

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><p>When Merlin woke up, he wasn't sure why. He knew he couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours, and it was still dark outside his window. The acceleration of his heart told him that something must have forcibly awoken him, but… what? He tried to remember if he'd felt someone at his shoulder, or if he'd heard something…<p>

_Heard_. He'd heard a door.

He rolled over in his bed, his nightshirt hanging off one shoulder. He pushed the covers out of his line of sight and, through the dark, he could see the doorway and the figure that stood in it.

"Hello?" He called out groggily. The figure moved toward him, but did not answer.

"_Leot_," he whispered, and squinted against the white light that obediently appeared in his palm. He held it up.

"Freya?" He asked, confused. She looked at him, and she looked scared. "Freya, what are you doing here? You should be resting," He rose from his bed and went towards her. "Gaius said that you should be-" He'd reached out a hand to her, and when he did, she flinched away from him. She dug a hand into the folds of her skirt and drew out a sharpened dagger. Merlin froze. He took in the dagger, then looked Freya in the eyes.

His heart sank.

She was standing before him, but her eyes were vacant and unseeing. Her face was stony and unemotional as she assumed a knife fighter's stance against him. So this was it, then. This was how Valas meant to kill him. All this time, Merlin had assumed that Valas would drive Freya to murder through force, by the ultimatum of her own life over his. Never had such dark enchantments of mind control crossed his mind. Inexplicably, Merlin felt tears rise in his eyes for Freya. She would kill him, and she wouldn't know it. Then, she'd wake from her trance above his body, unable to do anything. Merlin knew the Sidhe were determined, but it was only then that he realized how low they would go to meet their ends.

She took a threatening step toward him.

"Freya," He said, unconsciously raising his hands in front of himself defensively, "This isn't you. You don't have to-" She drove him back and he tripped over the chest at the foot of his bed. He scrambled to right himself, but when he stood up, she was right there, and she grabbed his arm. He couldn't help it when he winced. With her so close, he could sense rather than see Valas behind Freya's eyes, and it made him mad.

"Let her go," He hissed, and hoped Valas would hear. _"líesinge __híe,"_ His eyes flashed, but nothing happened. _"Líesinge híe nú!"_

Pushing his arm down so he couldn't interfere, her fist brought the dagger up to his neck, the point pressed directly into the side, right behind his jugular. Merlin could feel the steel bobble slightly with each pound of his heart. He swallowed, trying not to move. "Please," he didn't know who he was talking to. Freya wasn't there. It was all so wrong, to see her, eyes like stone, face like death, hand filled with a dagger and no remorse. Merlin remembered how tormented Freya had been when she was cursed, when the bastet would force her to kill mindlessly every night. He wondered how many times worse it would be when she woke from killing him.

"_Ábrice__galdor,"_ he tried, ignoring the fact that speaking was making the wound on his neck worse. "_T__óbregdan híe. Tóbregdan, _Freya!" She pressed the knife harder, and he had to grunt against the pain. He knew if he tried to resist, she would kill him instantly, so he stayed still and ignored the blood and the fingernails that dug into his forearm. "Freya please, don't do this," his voice cracked. He must have imagined the glint of recognition that ran across her eyes for a fleeting moment. "_Geswutelung éagmist. Ár híe, __foreþingaþ, ár ús!" _It started as a spell, but in the end he realized that he was using the old tongue to plead to his magic itself for help, any help. He could feel a rush of magic, but nothing happened. Freya pressed the dagger harder against him, and he hissed.

With a grimace of pain, he did the only thing he could think of. Moving slowly, hoping she wouldn't react, he reached up his free hand and brought it up to the side of her face, his thumb touching the corner of her eye softly. She felt cold. He looked her in the eye and searched for any remnant of her. He wasn't sure if he'd found it when he said quietly, "Freya, that's enough."

He couldn't think of anything else to say, and she didn't move, so for a moment, nothing happened. Merlin was frozen watching her eyes, hoping. Then, slowly, shakily, her eyes returned to themselves, and it was Freya, really Freya who was looking at him. Merlin couldn't hold back his sigh of pure relief. Freya looked drowsy.

"Merlin?" She whispered confusedly. Then she saw his neck, the blood, the dagger, and her hand.

She screamed.

The dagger clattered to the floor, and Freya staggered back, each breath coming as an airy scream. Merlin darted forward and caught her before she fell to the ground.

After more startled cries, she tried to speak. "He… He took –made me go and… Oh _gods_, Merlin, your neck, and I don't even remember… I can't-" She was beginning to hyperventilate.

Merlin wiped at his neck and was surprised at the amount of blood. He wiped it away with his sleeve, now ruined, and pressed his palm against the wound. _"Gelácne,"_ he whispered, and felt the wound close up. The blood remained. "No, Freya, calm down, I'm fine, feel it, I'm fine," He brought her hand up to his neck where, despite the blood and a lingering bruise, the flesh was smooth. She felt it, but couldn't slow her breathing.

"He had control, Merlin, I couldn't stop him. I didn't even know when he came to cast the spell, and… And I nearly k-" She gulped, "Nearly ki-" Her jaw was quivering and she buried her mouth in her hands before she could finish. He drew her into a hug so tight it might've taken the breath out of her, but as it was she could only cry against him. "I could've done it," she moaned, "I could've let him make me into a monster again,"

In that moment, Emrys could have leveled the entire castle for his rage. He felt his arms shaking for want of hunting Valas. _How dare he_, was all he could think. _How dare he take her mind from her, bring her to this._

His rage was broken when Freya crumpled in his arms, knees buckling beneath her. He fell with her to the ground, trying to hold her up as best he could. As she fell halfway into his lap, he remembered her weakness, what Gaius had said about her not making it through the week. Valas was all at once the farthest thing from his mind. Freya was dying. His Freya. In his arms. Again.

"Freya," he stroked her cheek, "Freya, hold on,"

"I'm dying, Merlin," she told him, "That's why he sent me now. I'm nearly gone as it is."

"No. No." Merlin was shaking his head and he didn' t know why "You can't go. Please. I can't… I have to save you."

She smiled at him, and he'd spent years trying to forget the day when she'd last smiled like that. "Years ago, you said that we'd run away together, and find a place where the mountains overlooked a lake." She reached up to his cheek where there were tears. "Take me there, again?"

He gathered her in his arms and began to stand. "If ever I did save you, that day, please, let me do it again," They both had tears on their faces. "Please. I promised. I _promised you_. I can't break it again."

"You never did, my love."

* * *

><p>"<em>No!<em>" Valas growled, alone in his chambers. He'd felt the enchantment snap and knew that Freya had been freed from his grasp. He'd hoped that Emrys would have died before she could've been freed, but he knew better. If Freya had killed Emrys, Valas would have felt it. As it was, both the witch and the warlock still lived.

Though not for long, he knew. The enchantment on Freya had run its course, and she was as good as dead. She would hardly be able to walk, by now. There was only one way for her to remain alive for much longer, and both Valas and Freya knew that well. Valas looked out the window and saw Emrys, Freya in his arms, moving away from Camelot and toward the forest. Valas growled and pivoted on his heel.

Freya might not have killed Emrys as per plan, but that didn't mean that Valas couldn't finish the job himself. He paused by the door to belt on a sword and grab the staff he'd been hiding for weeks, and he marched out the door into the dead of night in pursuit of the power he'd sworn to obtain.

* * *

><p>"I am tied to the lake's magic," Freya told him as he walked, "if anything will save me, the lake will."<p>

Merlin wanted to say that the Sidhe would kill her regardless, but didn't. If he was carrying his beloved into her last moments, he wasn't going to talk about how she was about to die. Instead he said, "It will save you," and he didn't mean for his voice to crack, "It will. I promise, we'll both come out of this." He realized that he wouldn't be able to keep that last promise and ached.

She smiled. "And we'll finally run away together?"

"Just like you said, to a lake, with mountains."

"No," she replied, head resting against his chest as he carried her, "to Camelot."

"We'll have to leave the lake behind, first,"

"Yes."

"And when we do, you'll come back to Camelot?" he wasn't sure how he was doing it, walking, carrying, and talking all at once, but it was a moment he'd remember forever.

"Yes. I'd marry you, there."

Merlin let out something between a laugh and a cry. "I'd like that." He looked ahead, and could smell the water of the lake coming closer. "We could have a family together."

"I already have a family," she said, her voice growing weaker as her eyes fluttered. "You, Gwen, Arthur… You're my family now."

"Exactly why you can't go now," He said, his voice shaky and thick, "There are so many people in Camelot who love you now, no more than me. It'd be awfully rude of you to go now."

"Perhaps I've overstayed my welcome," she said, trying to fight back a deep drowsiness.

"Never," he told her as he stepped over a fallen log, "You'll never have to go if you don't want to."

"I don't want to go," she said, even as she began to fall asleep.

"Then help me get you home."

* * *

><p>Back in Camelot, the king and queen slept soundly, none the wiser to the progressing events of life and death, all slowly running further and further away from the castle.<p>

Arthur was snoring lightly as he did every night, Guinevere pleasantly immune to the noise and curled up beside him. Deep in his sleep, something itched at Arthur's mind. His breathing hitched because of it, his snoring drawing into sharp whuffs of displeasure until finally he awoke, grimacing in protest to whatever had awoken him. His ears were ringing, but eventually, it dissipated. He sighed annoyedly, turned, and attempted to go back to sleep.

Then his ears started ringing again. But it wasn't just _ringing_, it was actually coming from somewhere in his room. But where? He tried to locate it, but it died out again. He closed his eyes.

A few minutes later, it started again. This time, he sat bolt upright, trying to locate the direction of that annoying ringing sound. Beside him, Gwen slowly awoke, groggy and disoriented.

"Mmmn… What is it, Arthur?"

"Damned ringing."

"What?"

"Don't you hear that?" Arthur asked as the noise grew louder. Gwen peered up at him through a mess of dark hair and attempted to listen.

"I don't hear anything, dear, go back to sleep." She fell back down against her pillow.

"But it's so _loud_." He stood up out of bed. "How can you not hear it?"

Guinevere sighed. "You were probably dreaming, Arthur."

"No," He said frustrated, "You don't understand, it's-" And his head suddenly whipped around when the noise focused in on a certain corner of his room. He stormed over to it and dug through a pile of packs and equipment until he found Excalibur, sheathed and _ringing_. But how was it ringing? And how the _hell _could Gwen not hear it? Not sure what else to do, Arthur drew the sword halfway from its sheath. As soon as the metal blade was visible, the sound intensified tenfold, but for some reason, it seemed to settle down once Arthur was looking at it.

_Oh good, you're here,_ the noise seemed to say.

"What do you _want?_" Arthur said reflexively, and then shook himself. He was talking to a _sword_.

Even though there was no light in the room, Arthur thought he could see a reflection in Excalibur's polished blade. Trees. _What?_ He blinked. He was dreaming, surely. He began to resheath the blade and turn away, but the noise grew irritating once again. _Look!_ It said. Thinking that he must have gone utterly batty, Arthur turned back to it.

"What? What are you trying to show me?" he felt stupid talking to a sword. He wondered for a second if Merlin was pulling a prank.

He could see more than just trees, now: a sparkling body of water. There were mountains, he thought. Then his heart jumped when he saw Merlin, carefully stepping around a rocky bend, his arms full with another person's body.

"Arthur? What're you doing? Come back to bed."

"Shhh, wait," He told her, even though he couldn't hear anything besides that infernal ringing.

It was Freya that he could see Merlin carrying, he realized, and by the same way he knew Excalibur was ringing at _him_ and knew now that this was not some practical joke, Arthur knew that Merlin and Freya were in extreme danger. The image reflected on the blade changed, and Arthur saw Valas charging through the woods behind his friends, staff in hand and sword at the ready. He gulped. Quickly, he resheathed Excalibur and didn't think it odd when the ringing stopped altogether.

"Guards!" Arthur shouted, which made Gwen jump. As he pulled on his breaches, she looked at him as if he'd gone mad.

"What are you doing?" She demanded from the bed.

"It's Merlin. He's in danger. And Freya." The guard appeared at the door. "Go wake the knights, tell them it's urgent." Arthur told him. He pulled a tunic over his head and when he saw the guard still standing there, shouted, "_Now!"_ The guard scurried away. Gwen made quick work of lighting candles so they could see.

"What is going on? What do you mean, Merlin's in danger?" She asked.

"I don't know," Arthur admitted, strapping Excalibur across his waist, "They're headed to a lake. Valas is after them. We have to help them, or they'll die!"

Gwen didn't have time to ask him how he knew it all was true before he was out the door.

* * *

><p>The lake was just like he remembered it. Even in the dark, he could see the mountains doused in moonlight, and the shadows of the trees on the lake. He reached the edge of the water and lowered Freya down, just like he remembered doing years ago.<p>

"Freya," He said, tapping her cheek, "Freya, please wake up. We're here." She stirred lightly, but did not rise. He pressed his lips together and picked her up again. He waded out into the water with her in his arms until she was half submerged, her hair flowing around his elbow like a dark cloud. "Please," He said to the lake or her, or both. "Please let me save you. I promised."

He could feel magic swell around her, and then, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. They smiled at each other.

"A lake, just like you said," he told her.

"Just like I said. Thank you, Merlin." She smiled even wider, and he helped her out of his arms so they were standing face to face, both waist deep in water, Freya soaking head to toe. With renewed strength flowing from the lake, she launched herself at him and hugged his neck. He fell forward into her shoulder and didn't mind as cold water from her arms dripped down his collar. "You've done it, Merlin. I'm al-rahHH!" The word dissolved into a tortured cry in her mouth, and she fell away from him, grasping at her chest. She looked up to some point behind Merlin's shoulder. He turned to follow her gaze.

"Valas!"

The Sidhe's hand was in the air, clawlike and menacing. "You really _are_ a meddlesome pair, aren't you?" He clenched his hand, and beside Merlin, Freya erupted into another cry.

"The lake, Merlin," She gasped, grabbing at his arm, "It's burning me." Merlin wasted no time. He grabbed onto her waist and helped her to the shore. Valas continued to manipulate the lake's magic as they went, crippling Freya with pain. By the time they were on shore, she could only lie down. Merlin rose and stood protectively over her.

"You've taken enough from her, Valas," he warned, "You'll not take any more."

"Is that so, _Emrys?_" the Sidhe spat. He walked along the shore toward them, and Merlin shifted, readying himself for an attack. "She had nothing left to loose. She was _dead_." He looked Merlin up and down disdainfully. "You _should_ be, but your stupid bitch there can't do as she's told."

"You _dare_ speak of her like that-" Merlin's voice was dangerously low, but Valas cut him off.

"This was never about her, you know. She could have been anyone. An old crone, a peasant, even your dear old Prince Arthur – which, I admit would have made my job even easier. No, the fact that you chose to save _her_ all those years ago is irrelevant. She's no more than a tool, a bargaining chip; collateral damage. And if you aren't strong enough to eliminate a threat that just happens to have a pretty face, well," Valas smiled, "you can blame yourself for her existence."

"You want _my_ power, not hers," Merlin told him, "You sent her to kill me, to secure her life by the rites of the Old Religion. But why have _her_ kill me? Why not face me yourself? Not strong enough, Valas?" Merlin taunted.

"Ooh, someone's been noisy, haven't they?" Valas looked down at Freya as he spoke, and Freya finally sat up, careful to stay behind Merlin and the Sidhe drew closer. Out of his peripheral, Merlin could see that the lake was churning up. "I warned you not to tell him, _daughter_. Looks like punishment is in order." He smirked at them.

"You _touch_ her, and I'll-"

"You'll what, Emrys?" Valas raised his hands, inviting an attack. "Kill me?"

"I could, and you know it."

Valas laughed. "Perhaps in Camelot. But you forget, we are at Avalon, now. And I have an army of my kin just _waiting _for you to deal your first blow."

Merlin glanced at the lake, and knew Valas was telling the truth.

"So by all means, please, kill me now. It'll be the last decision of your life. You will die, your dear Freya will inherit your powers, and my plan will see victory."

"Your _plan_," Merlin spat, "cannot succeed."

"Oh?" Valas raised his eyebrows. "What, kill you, enslave your witch, and take Camelot?" He pretended to think. "Actually, I think it's looking more and more likely with each moment, don' t you?"

Merlin was put back by the mention of his home. "Camelot?" He asked uncertainly.

"You didn't think we would stop with your magic, did you, Emrys? Oh no," Valas chuckled, as though amused at a young child. "We attempted to take Camelot years ago, and failed. But once you are dead and Freya has obtained your powers, I will assert my power of the lake over her, and she will be a puppet to my will. By my bidding and through your power, she will do whatever I wish." He smiled. "Even if I wish for her to kill Camelot's beloved monarchs in their sleep. Our dear Freya will be a queen of her own making, and you will have helped put her on the throne, Emrys."

Freya made a strangled whimper behind him, and Merlin knew she'd never heard this part of Valas' plan. He took a step back towards her, his eyes not leaving Valas.

"So, by all means, _just try_, Emrys." Valas smiled, his arms spread wide. To Merlin's left, a cloud of Sidhe rose from the Lake, armed for battle and looking every bit like the army that Valas promised. Merlin tensed.

"What will it be, Emrys?"

Merlin glared, then spat, "Do your worst."

Valas seemed amused. "As you wish."

Out of nowhere, a hail of daggers rained down on them. Freya screamed Merlin's name in surprise, and ducked away. Merlin jumped, but was able to through up a shield in time to block injury. Daggers fell like hailstones around them until Valas let up his attack.

"Too afraid to attack yourself, are you? You can only hide behind your shield for so long, Emrys." Valas hurled a huge fireball at him. In a move that Merlin had been practicing for years after his encounter with Nimueh, he caught the spell midair and sent it back at Valas, who seemed at least somewhat surprised.

"You underestimate me, Valas," Merlin said. "I, like you, am a creature of the Old Religion. I can use the same rites of life and death to kill you and grant Freya her life again."

"Can you, though? Do you not know, Emrys, that the benefactor of the rites must be near death to be saved? It's a fascinating conundrum of the deep magic, that one must die to live… And yet, I believe Freya is feeling quite well. Are you not, dear?" He addressed Freya herself, who had stood shakily to her feet. When neither she nor Merlin said anything, Valas continued, "the spell I had on her all this time didn't actually sustain her; it merely drew out the effects of the Lake's magic on her to last a far greater time than they normally would. And now, you've given her a few minutes in the lake, and another few weeks in your world before she reaches death's door again." Valas smiled. "And let's face it, you don't have that kind of time." He hurled another spell at Merlin, and the warlock ducked just in time. "You will die here, Emrys. By saving her, you have condemned her to a fate worse than death."

The rain of spells grew thicker as the Sidhe rose to their kin's aid. Merlin made a shield around himself and Freya, but knew that he couldn't keep it up long enough to ward off an army. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something. A metallic glint in the bushes. He reached out with his magic, and when he realized what it was, his heart rose. But then, he realized what he'd have to do. It fell again.

"You can't hide forever, Emrys," Valas said, and Merlin hardly heard. "Face your fate and die, or face me and _do your worst_." The Sidhe spat Merlin's own words back at him, but the taunt didn't register.

An idea was forming in Merlin's mind. A horrible, morbid, unthinkable idea that made his gut turn painfully. He couldn't bring himself to do it… could he? But he saw no other way. He could feel Freya's hand on his, where she must have grabbed it during the scuffle. Slowly, he turned to her.

"Freya, do you trust me?"

She looked at him, and neither of them heard what was happening around them. Merlin knew that druids and dragonlords had penchants for psychic communication, but if there was a message that passed between he and Freya in that moment, neither of them knew what it had said. And yet, after that look, they both understood what was about to happen, what the other was about to do, what they were putting at risk for each other and against each other, and they hadn't shared a single word.

"Yes," she whispered, though it looked like it pained her.

Merlin couldn't look at her after that, so he looked back to the bushes to make sure he'd seen it right. Then, before he could change his mind, he picked up one of the discarded daggers from Valas' attack, turned, and stabbed Freya deep in the gut.


	15. The Lady of the Lake

**A/N:** Welp, this story is just about a wrap! Just one more chapter (and it'll be short!) and then an epilogue, and we're done! Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

><p><em>"Freya, do you trust me?"<em>

_"Yes," she whispered, though it looked like it pained her._

_Merlin couldn't look at her after that, so he looked back to the bushes to make sure he'd seen it right. Then, before he could change his mind, he picked up one of the discarded daggers from Valas' attack, turned, and stabbed Freya deep in the gut._

The warmth of her blood on his hand was the worst feeling he could imagine. His eyes were wet as he said, "I'm so sorry," and the worst part was when she couldn't answer. But he knew he didn't have time to concern himself further. He whirled around to the bushes.

"_NOW, Arthur!"_

And thankfully, a warrior like the king of Camelot didn't need more of a cue than that. Excalibur in hand, Arthur charged out of the bushes in a rage, headed straight for Valas. Merlin could see Gwaine, Leon, and Elyan follow suit. And then, by a miracle, Gwen was there as well. She travelled back around in the treeline until she was by Merlin and Freya.

"Go, Merlin," she told him, kneeling by Freya.

"Gwen," He felt he had to explain, "I-I had to, for it to work, I-"

"I heard what he said, Merlin," She looked up at him, her hand holding Freya's, "Just _go_."

He did, intentionally not looking back at her or Freya. He raised his hands against the approaching army of Sidhe, flicking small spells back and forth over the lake as needed to defend the knights. Arthur needed no such aid. With Excalibur in his grip, he was a whirling terror, able to kill even the Sidhe that dared come near him. However, well-knowing of the blade's power, the Sidhe avoided him altogether, taunting him from a distance.

Valas, who had remained relatively quiet once Arthur and his small troop sprung from the trees, regained his voice to taunt Merlin.

"You would go this far, Emrys? You would kill the woman you love to save her? You would gamble her life away?"

"Better than handing it over to the likes of _you_," Merlin spat, and cast a fire spell.

Valas dodged it. "A selfish claim, Emrys. I thought you would respect her wishes in this, yet to my knowledge, she never asked for you to _murder her_."

Merlin tried to ignore the last phrase. "I told you, Valas, that I would do anything, anything to death itself to protect those I love from anyone who means them harm, from the Sidhe, from _you._ I meant that."

"And yet, I wonder: Whose death will pay for the debt of security? For surely, the beloved do not become the victimized by a movement of love. You are reckless, and more hateful than even I appear in your eyes."

"I may be reckless, but I am not hateful, nor am I wrong." And it was no longer Merlin, but Emrys who growled, "you cannot win, Valas."

Then, real fear flickered through Valas eyes.

Excalibur clanged against the armor of a Sidhe, and the sound brought both sorcerers back to the battle around them. Gwaine and Leon struggled together against a cloud of Sidhe who dodged their blades like air. Elyan was recovering from a blow to his arm. Arthur held Excalibur and was looking around for a challenger. Valas stood just at the lake's edge, his gaze turning toward Arthur, and to Excalibur. Merlin set his jaw. They had to win.

Focusing his magic, Merlin willed time to slow down, and the scene before him blurred. Then, he turned to Arthur. He had never communicated with the king telepathically, so he hoped that Arthur wouldn't be _too _startled when he spoke into his mind,

"_The Sidhe crave Excalibur, which they once owned. It can kill them, but they know it; they are avoiding you. Valas is still mortal. Let the knights deal with the Sidhe. Occupy yourself with them, but be ready to attack Valas when I give the word."_

And slowly, time sped back up to normal. Arthur's head whipped around to Merlin, peering at him in surprise, but then, after the shock subsided, Arthur nodded and turned to aid his knights against the Sidhe. Merlin turned his attention to the human Sidhe.

"_Forbaerne!_"

It was enough to distract Valas from whatever was happening with his kin, and Merlin dodged the Sidhe's returning volley just in time. Intentionally backtracking away from the main battle, Merlin threw spell after spell to anger and overwhelm Valas further.

Valas growled in anger. "Camelot was never meant to be in _your_ hands, Emrys! Your precious home will fall to our power! To _my _power. The power I will take from you!" He raised his staff, and lightning sped towards Merlin. It was only through magic that he was left unharmed.

"Camelot is in the hands of the Once and Future King," Merlin replied defensively, "as she should be. And under my watch, you will never so much as look upon her again." As Merlin spun to accommodate Valas' movements, his eyes flicked over to where Freya lay in Gwen's arms, and the queen looked up at him with an expression that spoke volumes. He swallowed. It was time.

"You speak the truth; but your watch is about to end." Valas lunged with his staff again, and narrowly missed. "I will kill you, and _your_ watch will become _mine."_

"No, Valas, even then you lose." Merlin had to fight to keep his voice from cracking. He turned slowly, deliberately repositioning himself and Valas opposite him. "Your last hope, the only vessel you have any control over, is dying." He was somewhat surprised when Valas smiled.

"So she is. And seeing you suffer that, I must say, is more a victory than I had anticipated." Merlin grit his teeth, but did not attack. Valas looked over at Freya, then back at Merlin with a sneer. "I suppose I just have to kill you quickly, anyway."

Merlin let out a smooth breath, and tried to remember, tried to summon every ounce of grief and anger and raw emotion that had allowed him to save Gaius' life all those years ago. He saw Valas raise his staff, and he closed his eyes.

"_You too are a creature of the Old Religion,"_

"_Abas ocus bithe duthected bithlane,"_

"_Mastered the power of life and death itself,"_

"_They've sent me here to kill you,"_

"_I'm dying, Merlin,"_

"_I'll look after you,"_

"_I promise."_

He could feel it swirling deep within his chest, rising up from a place rarely touched. A power so raw and so expansive that Merlin was surprised that he knew what to do with it. It was silent for a moment as it traveled to his fingertips, but then it was at hand, and his eyes snapped back open and his mind screamed out an order: _"Now, Arthur!"_

And all at once, Valas attacked, the king of Camelot spun around, Emrys ducked, and Excalibur hit its target with an unnatural ringing that spoke triumph into the ears of its weilder.

Merlin lowered his arm from where it'd risen to guard his face, and he saw Valas' eyes, wide and surprised, staring at him above a chest run through by the blade of the dragon's breath. For a moment the sorcerer only stared, before his mortal form disintegrated until he was a Sidhe like the rest, and then, he disappeared entirely, leaving only blood on Arthur's sword.

The lake was deathly quiet. Valas was dead, and yet Merlin did not feel the rush of victory. No one did. Had it worked?

"Merlin," It was Gwen, and the warlock turned. She was still bent over Freya, and her expression made his heart stop. He rushed over.

"Freya," he bent over her, and Gwen scurried out of the way. "Freya," He called more insistently, cradling her limp face in his hands. Her skin was clammy. He looked her up and down, and quickly removed the dagger from her gut. His hands were covered in her blood and he didn't seem to notice. "It had to have worked. Freya!" He touched her face again, his hands smearing red. "Please, it _has _to work," He shook her, trying to rouse her. "_Please,"_

The king, queen, and their knights had gathered around some distance away, watching with similar expressions of disbelief and grief.

"No, _no._" Merlin was on the verge of tears as his dirty hands rubbed at her too-cold cheek. "Please, I can't. You can't leave. I promised." He choked on the first sob. "Please, _not again_."

Gwen had tears streaming down her shocked face, and grabbed onto Arthur's arm. The king couldn't respond. _Not again_. Merlin's words repeated themselves as he rocked Freya back and forth, his forehead bent against hers, crying onto her face.

Arthur had seen Merlin angry, sad, and upset before. Somehow, strong emotions from the warlock tended to coincide with magical outbursts – rooms destroyed, storms in clear skies, even small earthquakes. But in that moment, as Arthur looked down on Emrys – no, _Merlin_ – he did not see a dragonlord, or a warlock, not even a petty magician. All he saw was a man with a breaking heart and no power to fix it; tired, broken, and weeping.

And he didn't know how to respond.

"Please," Merlin could only whisper and pretend he couldn't smell the blood, try to forget the fact that he was the one who put it there. _Not again,_ he spoke to a mind that was no longer there. His shoulders shook but he made no sound.

Then, the lake began to tremble. At first, Arthur thought it was Merlin, and turned to say something to him, but then Gwaine turned toward the lake and smacked Arthur's arm until he turned around and looked too. It was the Sidhe. Immediately, Arthur drew Excalibur, and his knights followed suit. The Sidhe who led the rest did not look happy, but was submissive as he announced:

"As Emrys has judged, so the laws of the Old Religion must concede."

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who wasn't paying any attention. "What do you mean?" He asked, but the Sidhe ignored him.

"The Sidhe have no choice but to accept the movements of the Old Magic. All hail the Lady of Avalon," he said in a ceremonious voice, and bowed where he floated in the air. "Hail," The sidhe said and, one by one, knelt. The knights stared in confusion, until a sound came from behind them: a breath.

Merlin had jumped back from Freya. Her form was dark in the night, wet with blood and water, and dirty with sand, but her eyes were open and blazed with magic. Her back arched against the shore as she drew in a gasping breath.

"Freya?" Merlin breathed. She didn't appear to hear him, and pushed herself up easily, as though she hadn't ever been stabbed or cursed or even remotely tired a day in her life. Her eyes still ablaze, she stood with a stature and a presence so powerful that, for a moment, none of them recognized her. She slowly walked toward the lake, until she was in it, deeper and deeper up to her waist. When she spoke, it was the voice of a queen.

"I am Freya, and I am the Lady of your Lake. I have been granted the power of your elders, those that would betray me, and my family, and Camelot my ally. Their ends will be pursued no longer. My will is the will of Avalon. And my will is peace."

The company on the bank could only watch with open-mouthed expressions as the Sidhe, only minutes ago anticipating her death and attacking her defenders, now bowed obediently at her behest, their heads dipped low, if not begrudgingly, to her honor. Freya took it in and slowly, the gold in her eyes began to fade, and the commanding lift to her shoulders slumped.

"This is my lake," She said in her own voice, and collapsed into the water.

While the rest stood unmovable and gaping, Merlin sprung immediately into the water after her, digging her up in the fear that she might drown. She came up in his arms soaking wet, gasping, and smiling. "A lake, just like you said," she laughed, and put her hands on either side of his face. "I told you you'd already saved me, Merlin," She said, and then, for only his mind to hear, _"I promise, never again._" Even through the lakewater on his face, she could see him crying in his laughter, holding her hands to his dirty face. Their eyes met, and both of them knew that everything between them would finally, at long, long last, be well and truly alright.

The knights and their royals watched the scene unfold from the shore, and although some of them were looking at the Sidhe and others were falling to the ground out of relief, Arthur was watching his best friend and a woman he'd grown to love as a sister in one of the strangest, most tender, completely _Merlin _moments he'd ever witnessed. Waist deep in water, both covered in Freya's blood, Merlin still in breeches and a nightshirt singed by magic, with sand caked to their faces by tears and the lake water that covered them head to toe, holding each other, laughing like children. And then, something happened that, looking back on later, Arthur thought he probably should have seem coming a mile away.

Arthur had never seen Merlin kiss anyone. It was a claim he could never make again.

* * *

><p>Gaius had nearly gone mad with worry when they returned. He'd seen them coming before they reached the gates, and he went out to meet them. He waited there impatiently, having every intention to grill them on their whereabouts and demand why no one had informed him that Valas had made his move. He'd summarized what must have happened up to the point of Merlin leaving, but in all the theories that he'd postulated over his restless wait in the castle, he wasn't prepared for the sight that walked through the front gates. All questions died on his lips as he looked them over. There were no injuries, no frowns, no cries, not even a limp. There was only dirt, giggles, and the residual smell of lakewater. Despite it all, he found the face he couldn't ever help but to worry about, and went up to him.<p>

"Merlin," he said, pulling the man into a quick hug before looking him up and down. "What on _earth _have you done?" He glanced at Freya, who seemed healthy, and Arthur, who still held Excalibur at his side. "What's happened to Valas?"

And Merlin could only laugh.

* * *

><p>Thankfully, although Merlin seemed too bemused to even begin thinking about explaining, Leon, ever level headed, and Arthur, who'd seen the most, explained the events as quickly and as clearly as possible. It was during this retelling that they all learned two things: the first, that Freya only held a hazy memory of her address to the Sidhe, and the second, of Excalibur's uncanny communication with Arthur. Gwen was the one who'd mentioned it, and all of them seemed surprised by the revelation.<p>

"I've never heard of anything like it. Did you know about such a power?" Merlin asked, looking at Freya, who had guarded the weapon for so long. She shook her head.

"Excalibur has always been a powerful weapon, but neither I nor the Sidhe knew it possessed such abilities."

"I've never read of its like, Sire," Gaius commented.

"Well, Kilgarrah said it was forged for Arthur alone," Merlin said, looking to the king. "Perhaps that means more than we thought. Excalibur speaks only you, Arthur."

All eyes turned to the king, and Arthur glanced between them, then shrugged. "Well at any rate, if it weren't for its damned racket," He glanced down at the blade and sighed. "you wouldn't be alive." He looked up at Merlin. "So I suppose I can live without questioning its conversational habits for a day or two. Even if it is a _sword_."

Merlin laughed and nodded, realizing how tired he felt. "We _are_ alive. And of that, I am eternally thankful." His hand found Freya's. Although he was too exhausted to notice, everyone in the room saw it and smiled.

* * *

><p>The following days were a whirl of confusion as the truth about Valas came out, and the story of Freya's rescue and the involvement of the king and his Court Sorcerer slowly surfaced. Details were left out, such as Excalibur and the rites of life and death. The story was simplified for the masses, and embellished upon by the more flamboyant re-tellers, but after an official address by the king, the castle seemed to have it straight. And they'd never been prouder of Lord Emrys and his Lady.<p>

That was another thing, Merlin thought as he tied his scarf around his neck. In addition to all the confusion over Valas, Freya was back in Camelot, and she had every intention of staying permanently. To the court, and the royals, and to him, her presence spelled the inevitable. It made him smile at his reflection as he straightened his tunic.

"You had _better_," Gwen had said when he had, somewhat timidly, brought up the idea of marriage to Freya. "If you don't, I'll never forgive either of you."

Still, they'd decided to move it slowly. They announced their courtship (to the surprise of no one) a week or so after the death of Valas. Merlin had sent a letter to Ealdor attempting to explain the entire fiasco in one fell swoop, against the advice of Gwen and Freya. He passed with arguable levels of success, but Hunith had heard of Freya from Merlin's past, and seemed sometimes too understanding of the strange and obscure messes that magic wrought in her son's life. She showed no qualms in riding up to Camelot to meet the young lady who had come to court her son and listen to them tell the rather astonishing tale of how it came to be that way. It was her arrival at Camelot, in fact, that had Merlin up early on a weekend in his nicest neckerchief and a cleanly shaven face.

A knock sounded on his door and Freya let herself in. "Gwaine's gone out to meet her, they'll be here soon," she said, and found him standing in front of the looking glass.

"How do I look?" He asked, turning to her.

"Rumpled," she said, and came up to straighten his collar. After years in the attire of a servant, Merlin still hadn't quite grasped the idea that the nicer clothes he was allotted as Court Sorcerer were, in fact, intended to be treated more nicely. "That's better." She patted the front of his tunic down, then smiled up at him. She frowned fractionally. "Only… Merlin, you've missed a spot." She touched a rough spot just under his jawline, and he found it.

"Again?" he asked the air, and turned to his washroom. He emerged moments later and smiled. "Better?"

"Much."

He leaned down to kiss her on the lips, and wondered at how natural it all felt, how comfortable he was in her presence. She pulled away and began fiddling with his sleeve, determinedly trying to iron out the wrinkles with the heel of her palm. He thought he could have her fuss over his clothes every day, no matter how ridiculous, and he wouldn't mind. He smiled down at her, completely uncaring for whatever she was doing to his tunic sleeve.

Eventually, she seemed satisfied, and turned toward the door. "Come on, don't want to keep your poor mother waiting. I can't wait to meet her."

He frowned as he followed her. "What do you mean, 'poor'?"

"She has you as a son, doesn't she? I can't imagine all you've put her through, what with the magic." She turned and glanced at him. "And the ears."

Merlin mocked offense at the sally and looked serious when he said, "I'll have you know that she is my mother and has always loved me very much," He said, "ears and all."

Freya laughed. "Any woman would be utterly mad to love you."

He was only slightly behind her when he cocked an eyebrow and asked, "Are _you_ mad?" He couldn't see her smile, but heard it instead.

"Only a little."


	16. A Second Chance

**A/N:** SAP SAP SAPPITY SAP. Ye hath been warned.

* * *

><p>If Merlin was completely honest with himself, he'd been slightly worried that his mother and Freya might not get on. He was sure that, had Freya not been courting him, Hunith would have liked her without question, but because they were already courting, Merlin wasn't sure what to expect. He'd never shown romantic interest in anyone when he was in Ealdor, and up until Freya, he really hadn't been in any relationship whatsoever – he had no idea how his mother would respond to him being in a romantic relationship now, especially with someone she'd only heard about.<p>

Even after they'd hugged and he'd introduced Freya, he had a hard time gauging his mother's reaction. Then, he realized that they'd begun speaking in that strange, unintelligible female language composed of smiles and looks and subliminal messages. He still wasn't quite sure of the nature of their impressions of each other until, after the three of them had spent hours talking and were rising for lunch, Hunith put a hand to Freya's arm and said,

"He's a good boy, Freya, look after him." She looked up to her son and smiled, and that's when Merlin knew that everything would be alright.

He'd left them to themselves after lunch, Hunith having insisted that she wished to speak to Freya alone unhindered by male company.

"I still don't quite understand," Hunith admitted as she sipped at her tea, "how it is that you have the powers you do now. I thought Merlin said you didn't have magic…?" She looked up to Freya curiously. The couple had spent the better part of an hour explaining the story of the past months in Camelot, in greater detail than they had allowed Gaius or the knights, and Hunith had listened patiently as ever with a second-hand understanding of magic grown over decades of parenthood. Freya set her own tea aside and attempted to explain.

"No, I didn't. I wasn't born with magic like Merlin, but when he… That is, when Valas died, the powers he possessed transferred to me. It's rather funny, really," She looked down at her lap. "Valas knew that Merlin invested his magic in me and that, had he died, I would have gained his powers. Valas never counted on the fact that, since he'd used his own magic to keep me alive all this time, the same rule applied to him." Hunith smiled with her. "So no," Freya said, "I've never had magic, but now I suppose I do, over the lake, and the Sidhe, and the Old Magic they use. And it's strange," she frowned, "Now I can't imagine it another way."

Hunith smiled. "I'm glad for it, dear. I love Merlin dearly, but I would never wish anyone without magic to bind themselves with him. At least you, should he misbehave, can return the favor in a language that that magical mind of his will understand." She winked and picked up her tea again. Freya smiled at the thought and took up her tea as well.

They sat together for some time, speaking on all things that came to mind, from serious to awkward to trivial and funny, but most of all, Merlin. He was the common link in their lives, and even as each woman sensed the personality of the other and decided for herself that she rather liked this other woman, whether mother or courtier, Merlin was at the center of why they'd been introduced at all.

At the end of the evening, Hunith rose and grasped Freya's hand. "I am glad to meet you, Freya, and gladder that my son has as well." She smiled her pure, genuine smile, and Freya had to return it. "I would be delighted to have you join our little family. Life with my son isn't easy, and is unpleasant at times, but I'm sure after all you've been through you know as well – it is never, _ever_ boring."

Freya laughed as she thought about it. The bastet, the bounty hunter, the lake, her death, the fire, the Sidhe, the curse, the plot, the rites, the knife, the water, the laughter and a place to finally call home. Her eyes told Hunith that she understood completely. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she told the other woman, "It's well worth it."

Hunith smiled back. "Yes, he is."

* * *

><p>A few months later, when the autumn winds were playing with colored leaves and bringing in the first scents of the year's harvest and the coming winter, a crowd gathered in the castle courtyard for a rather special occasion.<p>

Up in his tower, Merlin was having a rather hard time dressing himself. His mother had forbidden him from wearing his neckerchief as he normally did, but had repurposed the scarf into a dressier cravat that only just showed a flash of red from underneath his dress tunic. It suited him well, making him look every inch like the Court Sorcerer and wise advisor he'd become. Still, for however nice the tunic was, he couldn't figure out the ties on its front to save his life. No matter how he tried, he couldn't seem get them lined up straight. He sighed in frustration as he tried to untangle them again.

"You know, after years with your nose stuck in _my_ wardrobe, I'd have thought you'd figured this out by now."

Merlin turned to find Arthur standing there in his best shirt and jerkin, Excalibur polished to a shine at his hip. He sighed at the king.

"That's completely different."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Is it? Well then, I'll hold you to it. Here, let me." He frowned at the mess of string on Merlin's front and went to work at it. "Hold still, would you?"

"I am still."

"You're not." He glanced up at his friend and smiled. "Calm down, alright? It's not like she's going to run away last minute."

"_I_ just might." Merlin muttered. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"_Mer_lin, don't be ridiculous. After all of this? If you do, Gwen'll have your head. She's spent far too much time planning this whole thing." Merlin muttered something that Arthur couldn't make out. The king glanced up and said in a sincere tone, "There really isn't any need to be nervous, Merlin."

"I'm not."

"Good!" Arthur finished with the ties and slapped Merlin on the shoulders. "There, then, every bit the strapping groom you ought to be." He frowned and added in a familiar chide, "Well, aside from you know, being _you_."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "At least _I_ don't have to wear a ridiculous crown at my wedding."

"Well, I _had_ thought about that…"

"_Arthur,"_

"Alright, fine, no crown. But really, take this," Arthur offered him a cloak. It was a familiar one, the same dress robes that he'd worn the day that Arthur had legalized magic, the day he'd been set free, the day he'd been made Court Sorcerer and ended up where he was. He looked up at Arthur and smiled.

"Thank you."

Arthur only nodded. He allowed a quick pause for the sake of momentum, then gestured to the door. "Well, come on, then, no use waiting about with that weird look on your face. Guinevere and your mother have been in with Freya for a century by now; I'll get someone to see if they're finished."

Within the hour, they had everyone assembled in the courtyard and all of the participants in their proper places. Although traditionally speaking, they should have been in the great hall indoors, Merlin had insisted that they take the celebrations outside to accommodate Aithusa, as well as Kilgarrah, who had promised to appear at least so long as the ceremony itself.

When Freya appeared, she found Merlin's eyes and smiled. For a second he forgot to breathe, for she looked just as beautiful as she ought to on that day, white from head to toe in a flowing style that completely befitted her new association to a lake, Merlin thought. Gaius had graciously offered to walk her down the aisle, and Merlin's old mentor nodded and smiled at him as they approached, but the warlock had eyes for Freya only. He looked rather stunned as she drew nearer, his smile present, but minimal.

Then, he saw her hair, or rather, what was _in _her hair, and he had to duck his head to hide his sudden, ridiculous grin. Dotted down the length of her loose-falling locks were small white flowers - strawberry blossoms. She'd requested them especially, even though strawberries were out of season months ago, and one of the new magicians in the court had indulged her. When she reached the alter and smiled at him, Merlin knew that she hadn't told anyone _why_ she'd requested them. Both of them had to fight back a laugh at that.

As the monarch and Merlin's only legal superior, it was Arthur himself who performed the ceremony. He seemed happy to do the job, and although he avoided sap and overly-romantic sentiment in his short speech over the couple, no one could miss the bright smile of approval on the king's face after the rings were exchanged and Merlin and Freya leaned in to kiss for the first time as husband in wife.

"You big softie," Gwen would tease him later at the celebratory feast, "I saw your smiling up there behind them. You _do_ care about them, both of them, no matter how much you've teased them."

"Oh, of course I do," Arhtur told her, his arm around her waist. "He may be an utter idiot, but he is my friend. And he's finally found a woman who's just as crazy as he is. They'll be perfect together." He'd frown and glance sideways down at his wife. "Only, don't tell them that I said that. Especially not Merlin." She would then laugh and wrap her own arm around him.

"Of course not, dear. The last thing we need is him knowing that his king is a man of sentiment."

They would speak of it as though Emrys didn't already know.

But he did know, which is why he didn't even bother glancing at Arthur before he took Freya's hand in is and led his new wife into the crowd of well-wishers that waited for them at the bottom of the steps.

As they danced together that night, Merlin looked down at her dress, which was white enough to put even Aithusa to shame, and a memory hit him.

"Better than a stolen silk gown, I'd say," he told Freya.

She laughed. "That was so long ago,"

"It seems that way." He squeezed her hand. "I never thought we'd see each other, after that."

"Nor I." She smiled and shook her head. "It's an astonishing thing, isn't it?"

"Astonishing? Maybe. After all that, we got a second chance, somehow,"

"And here we are," She finished, smiling up at him. He smiled back.

"And here we'll be. And, for what it's worth, I'd sorely like to keep it that way."

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." She leaned into him. "I promise."

"So do I," he said, but she shook her head.

"You already did, love. Just keep keeping it." He let out a chuckle and nodded as he realized that, in a rather strange way that could only apply to people so strange as them, she was right. Smiling, he leaned down to kiss her.

"I'll do that."

An so, their next great adventure began.

_finis_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, that's a wrap, folks! Thanks a ton for reading, for all of your wonderful reviews, and all the lovely Freylin support I've seen over this story! It's an encouragement to know you're not the only one who misses Freya in the show and wishes she got her own happy ending. Here's to hoping I did a halfway decent job at inventing one for her.

Stay tuned for the epilogue! It's got some more mush and gush in it, as well as a lovely set up for the sequel of _A Second Chance_, which I should begin posting soon.


	17. Epilogue: The Next Adventure

**_3 Years Later_**

* * *

><p>"And up! Just like a dragon! Swooooosh!" A barrage of giggles followed, joined by the occasional input by a deeper voice inflected with childish playfulness. Freya smiled to herself and rounded the corner quietly in the hopes that she wouldn't interrupt. She didn't, and she stood unnoticed in the doorway leading out to the covered porch where Merlin was swinging the tiny Pendragon about himself, propelling the baby around in circles and up over his head with the aid of a little magic, which the child seemed to enjoy. Freya smiled at his antics, and wondered to herself if he would play as enthusiastically with their child. She subconsciously ran a hand over her stomach, which was only just big enough yet to show her pregnancy.<p>

"Why, I do believe you _are _a dragon, Raina!" Merlin exclaimed overdramatically, "Look, you're flying!" He let go of her and let his magic hold her for a few seconds before he let her fall into his waiting arms. She exploded into pleased giggles, and he smiled down at her. "With a bit of practice, you'll be flying circles around Kilgarrah himself." He bent down to kiss her face affectionately.

"Perhaps a little _more_ than just practice, magic boy," a new voice chimed in.

"Mummy!" Raina cooed happily, reaching out. Gwen grinned as she came to take the smiley infant from Merlin's arms. "Not even two years old yet, and already learning to fly. Quite an accomplishment, I must say."

"I _am_ a remarkable teacher," Merlin said cheekily. Gwen rolled her eyes and looked down at her daughter. "You've got a silly uncle, isn't that right, Raina? Silly Uncle Merlin?"

"Merdin!"

The uncle in question smiled at the mispronunciation. Then, he spotted his wife, and grinned even wider and spread his arms as an invitation. Freya came over and let him put his arm around her. She fiddled with Raina's small hands when the toddler saw her and began flailing for her. "He is rather silly, isn't he?" She asked the child, and looked up at Merlin. "Though I suspect that he is more dragon than any of us. I suppose it could have gone to his head." Merlin laughed and turned to her, holding her hands.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. And though I can't be entirely sure, I swear I felt your son kick me earlier."

"Really?" Merlin looked down at her stomach and put a hand over her bump, and she laughed at his eagerness.

"It's been hours since then, and I'm not even sure that's what it was. I doubt he'll do it again."

"How are you so sure it'll be a boy?" Gwen asked, bobbing Raina in her arms. Merlin turned to her with a look that said he'd gone down that road many times.

"Don't try and argue with her," he warned, "it won't work."

Freya only shrugged. "Mother's intuition, I suppose," she told Gwen.

"Do you suppose the baby even _has _a gender yet, when it's so early?" Gwen speculated. Merlin gave her an appreciative look.

"That's what _I_ said, and Gaius too, but-" Freya swatted him.

"_Gaius_ doesn't know what he's talking about. Neither do you," she said when Merlin gave her an incredulous look. She put her hands rather assertively over her stomach. "I'm the one who's been carrying him about for three months and will carry him about for six more. I've been getting to know him quite well, and I can tell you that he is most definitely a _boy_."

Merlin could only shrug, and Gwen smiled at them.

"Have you thought of any names yet? For the – for him?"

The parents-to-be looked at each other. "Yes," Merlin said for them, "We decided that, should it be a boy-"

"Which he will, of course."

"-_should_ it be a boy, we'll name him Balinor, after my father. Balin for short. And if it's a girl-"

"Merlin, we've been over this, it _will_ be a boy. I don't see why you don't-"

"_If it is a girl_," Merlin spoke up over his wife, "we'll name her Elanor."

"…Which of course we won't."

Merlin chose to ignore Freya's last comment. Gwen smiled.

"Lovely choices – er, choice in names." She smiled, then looked down at Raina, who had calmed down from her play and was playing with the fringe on her mother's sleeves. "What do you think, Raina? D'you think you and young Balin will get on well when he comes? You ought to be friends." She smiled and glanced up at Merlin. "Perhaps you could both play dragons with your uncle at the same time."

"Ah, but our baby will actually be a touch dragon, too," Merlin smiled proudly. "Dragon_lord_, at any rate."

"Oh, just what I need," Freya teased, "another madman in the house."

"What's all this about dragons?" Arthur asked, coming out onto the porch dressed in armor from training. His face was serious, but morphed completely when he saw his daughter. "Ah, I didn't realize _all_ of my favorite people were here." He dove in to kiss his daughter's brow.

"Aw, Arthur, I'm touched that you think of me so highly," Merlin said. Arthur looked up and pretended to notice Merlin for the first time.

"Oh, you're here too? That's nice." He snuggled his baby again. He let the others laugh before he straightened up. "Really, though, I actually came to find you, I need to speak with you about something."

"What is it?" Merlin asked, his curiosity peaked by Arthur's businesslike tone.

"An idea that Leon mentioned. We were talking about magic – well, about how many sorcerers are coming to live in Camelot these days. We'd talked before about the possibility of taking a census, a kind of register for all of the magic users in Camelot, but the idea seemed a bit crude at the time… Now, with just how many magicians there are here, we thought we might need something different. And, well, I think I've come up with something."

"Yes?" Merlin looked excited.

"A guild. A guild of magic, to unite and keep track of all the magic users in Camelot."

Merlin's eyebrows went up in interest. "A guild? Like a professional guild? But aren't magicians a bit…scattered for that?"

"Exactly," Arthur said, getting excited about his idea, "That's just it – this would unite them together in a new community. Not really like other guilds – it'd be across professions and classes, and have different spheres to account for all the different roles magicians play in Camelot."

Merlin was caught up in the idea. He crossed his arms and watched Arthur interestedly. "Go on."

Arthur nodded and motioned for him to walk with him. "Well, I was actually thinking that we might divide it up into different groups. I was hoping you'd head up a defensive corps of the guild."

"Defensive?"

"Yes. You'd have to help me think up a proper name, but I was thinking, if we have so many magicians, some of them might want to try their hand at training to fight with magic. I think I've found the perfect place, an old underground barrack under the south turrets…" their voices faded as they walked slowly down the long porch, and their wives watched them go.

"How long you bet until they start arguing?" Gwen whispered to Freya.

"Hmm," Freya squinted and pursed her lips. She surveyed her husband's face, and that of the king. "Five minutes, max."

"What do you think, Raina?" Gwen asked, and the baby gurgled something in a nonsensical language. Gwen smiled as though she understood. "Years from now, perhaps someone will take those two seriously enough to believe that they were the ones who brought Albion together." She looked over at Freya. "We know better."

And, as if on cue, voices rose from across the porch, and the two women watched as the most powerful sorcerer of all time and the most respected king of Camelot's history bickered at each other like overgrown schoolboys.

"Oh," Freya said pleasantly, "a bit ahead of schedule, then. At any rate, they figure out everything better when they're arguing, although I don't think they know that." Ignoring the pair when Merlin shocked Arthur with conjured electricity and when Arthur retaliated by smacking Merlin upside the head, the two women settled down on a bench with Raina in between them, and began discussing their own thoughts on this new proposed magic guild.

Raina was actually the one who saw him first. "Agdon!" She shouted, pointing out across the castle yard from her mother's lap. "Agdon, agdon, agdon!" She pointed and clapped, and Gwen turned.

"What?" She shaded her eyes against the sun. Freya did the same, and gasped.

"Aithusa!" She turned. "Merlin, Aithusa is here!"

Freezing in the middle of a sally with his hand in the air to form a spell, Merlin turned. "What?" He and Arthur stopped what they were doing and went back over to the ladies as though they'd never been bickering. By the time they'd reached the bench where Freya and Gwen were sitting, Aithusa was perched just off the porch.

"Agdon!" Raina squealed again.

"That's _dragon_, dear," Gwen corrected.

"Father!" Aithusa called, breathless as he landed, "Father, exciting news,"

"Aithusa, what are you doing here?" Merlin was happy to see his reptilian ward, but confused. "I thought you'd flown out to the-"

"Eastern mountains again, yes," the dragon breathed, "I did. And I've come back with news."

Merlin's face cleared. "What kind of news?" He asked, hoping against hope. Arthur, Gwen and Freya watched attentively. Aithusa swallowed and responded.

"Well, they're not much, and they- they'll take a bloody long time to track, but they're there for all to see, not older than a few years, and after all the searching," the dragon blabbered, still panting for breath.

"Aithusa," Merlin said carefully, "_what _did you find?"

"Dragons," he blurted out. "Dragon nests, anyway. They're not new – rather old, but no more than five years old. Not older than the Purge. And if we could track them, if we could _find_ them, then, then…"

Merlin was in a daze. "There are more dragons out there."

"Yes," Aithusa was beaming a reptilian grin. "we are _not_ the last of our kind, father."

"Not the last…" Merlin's eyes were faroff, then he burst into a huge smile and spun around. "Not the last! Did you hear that? _Dragons!_" He looked down at Raina, then to his wife. "_Dragons,_ Freya! Real dragons!" He hugged her and kissed her and then turned back to Aithusa. "Oh, this is… This is… _You're not the last ones!"_ He grinned. "Oh, this is wonderful." Merlin turned around, hands to his head, mind awhirl.

"I know, father! Kilgarrah and I are truly _not_ the last of our kind." Aithusa laughed with him, and glanced at Freya, then looked to Merlin, then back at Freya. He lowered his voice to a normal volume. "And neither are you."

Merlin turned and smiled at his wife. He hugged her to him tight, and turned back to Aithusa. They began chattering away again, and eventually Arthur pitched in with a question, and then Gwen joined the conversation. Aithusa glanced at Freya once or twice kindly, but she remained silent as she watched them all talk excitedly about the possibility of there being other dragons out there. Freya wrapped her hands around her belly, which she knew would be growing quickly in the days to come. Here she was, carrying the _not_ last dragonlord, listening to the _not_ last dragon planning with her family to find those of their kin who had been missing for decades. It was all daunting, and yet, despite herself, she had to smile stupidly.

She could feel a new age dawning, a different time and a different place than the one that she and her friends knew when they had met, different than anything any of them had ever seen. It would be an age of newfound camaraderie and unity in their new land of Albion. It would be a time of discovery, of magic, and of dragons. And it would be a world they passed on to their children, she was sure.

Freya gasped and looked down at her stomach when she suddenly felt what she was _sure _was a kick. She rubbed the spot where her baby had hit and leaned back with a small grin.

It would appear as though this next adventure had already begun.

* * *

><p><strong>Coming Soon:<strong>

_Stand, Speak, Listen, Learn_

Tired of living under his father's shadow, when Balin Emrys finds a chance to prove his worth outside of Merlin's legacy, he jumps at it without a second thought. But when he lands in over his head and gets caught up with opposition he can't hope to face, he finds himself on his own to determine not only his own fate, but the fate of the same world he was trying to escape.


End file.
